


Nightmare

by hunter_king



Series: Supernatural - Wincest [53]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam Winchester, Dark Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Dubious Consent, Hurt Sam Winchester, Insanity, M/M, Obsession, Top Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:02:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27319693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunter_king/pseuds/hunter_king
Summary: Dean loves Sam. Dean has always loved Sam. So when Sam leaves him for Stanford, Dean has no other choice than to go get his brother and bring him back to where he belongs.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: Supernatural - Wincest [53]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1190095
Comments: 3
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2020 Wincest Big Bang  
> beta'd by the lovely jdl71  
> Art done by angeltortured and can be found [here](https://angeltortured-artblog.tumblr.com/post/632986218432430081/hey-everyone-give-this-awesome-writer-a-read-too)

“You're not just going to let him leave, are you?!” Dean demanded, watching as his little brother – his whole world – shoved his meager belongings into his duffel bag. He heard John and Sam screaming back and forth, completely ignoring that Dean was even in the room. “Come on, guys don't do this!” Dean yelled, trying to get the two most important people in his life to stop tearing at each other's throats. Neither responded to him. “Shut up, both of you!” Still, they ignored him. “I said _shut up!_ ” Dean yelled once more, grabbing the duffel from his brother's hands and tossing it onto the bed. _That_ finally got their attention. 

He hated it when they got like this. And they did this a lot. Dean always had to pry them apart and make them stop fighting. It was getting old, _fast_. Ever since Sam had gotten into high school and one of his damn teachers had opened his mouth and put this notion into his head that he could go to college. They were Winchesters – _hunters_ – college wasn't in their future.

But Sam apparently didn't want to see it that way. He wanted to believe that everything could be fine and dandy – a normal, apple pie life with three little rugrats and a white picket fence. That was never going to happen for them. He and Sam had been hunters since that demon pinned their mother to the ceiling and let her burn. Nothing was going to change that.

Sam's jaw twitched with aggravation when Dean took his duffel, the younger man shooting Dean one of his signature bitch faces. “Dean, this isn't your decision,” Sam argued. “I told you both about this. It's not like I was secretive about it. I got a full ride to Stanford, and I'm going to take advantage of it.” Moving to his duffel, Sam glared at their father once more. “Any father would be proud of his son for this. It's a great accomplishment.”

While John Winchester knew that he should be proud of Sam – hell, he _was_ proud of his son – he couldn't just sit back and let him leave without a fight. He'd thought they were all on the same page with their hunting. The main goal was to find the thing that killed Mary and get revenge. However long it took, and whatever they had to do in the meantime, they were going to avenge her death. But Sam had other plans. And John wasn't about to let his son abandon those plans without a fight. “If you walk out that door, don't you ever come back!” John spat, immediately regretting the words once they'd left his lips.

Eyes wide, Dean stared at John like a fish out of water. He couldn't believe that John would say something like that! His eyes ticked to his brother, clearly seeing the hurt on the younger Winchester's face. Dean wanted to go over there and beat the shit out of John – his _father_ – for putting that look on Sam's face. He just hoped his brother wasn't stupid enough to walk out that door. 

Unfortunately, John's words didn't seem to deter Sam. Shrugging the duffel onto his shoulder, Sam pushed past Dean, slamming the door behind him. Dean felt like he'd been ripped in two. On the one hand, he wanted to obey his father – be the good little soldier he'd been taught to be. But on the other hand, Sam was walking out the door, and he was hurting, and Dean wanted to help him. _Watch out for Sammy. Take care of your little brother, boy._ “Are you serious?” Dean asked, jaw ticking as he shook his head.

Before John had a chance to answer, Dean turned on his heels and headed out the door after his brother. Sam hadn't gotten far – the kid didn't have a car to get him anywhere. “Sam!” Dean called, running after the younger man in an attempt to catch up to him. “Sammy, c'mon wait up!” Sam didn't stop, forcing Dean to pick up his pace. “Sam, dammit, wait!” Dean ordered, gripping the younger man's shoulder and forcing him stop in his tracks.

The look he got from Sam damn near broke his heart. Sam's eyes were puffy and red, his cheeks warm from where he'd wiped away his tears. Again, Dean felt the overwhelming need to go punch John in the nose. “Sammy, you know he didn't mean it,” Dean assured his brother. “He just...he gets that way when he's mad. You know that.”

Scoffing, Sam shook his head, teary eyes looking at something over Dean's head. “Why are you always sticking up for him, Dean?” Sam accused, rolling his eyes. “He meant it. He meant every word. He's just mad that he can't control me anymore.” Not that Sam had ever been able to be controlled. He had always been the wild child – the defiant one. Dean was the good soldier – Dean followed orders. Sam wasn't like that. He couldn't be.

Quickly, Dean shook his head. “No, Sammy, I'm not sticking up for him,” Dean tried to argue. “I just...I know he didn't mean that. C'mon, we can go talk about this. Come back inside with me.” His fingers wrapped around Sam's bicep, trying to drag the kid back into the motel.

Anger spiked inside Sam when Dean tried to get him to go back to that motel room. “No, Dean, I'm not going back in there,” Sam argued, shoving his brother's hand off him. “I've made up my mind.” Champagne hazel eyes locked with moss green, pleading with Dean to understand. “I wanna go to college, Dean. I want to be a lawyer. I want a normal, safe life. I don't want to be a hunter. This isn't the life that I want to live. This isn't what Mom would want for us.”

Now, it was Dean's turn to get mad. He hated it when Sam brought their mother into the conversation, and his brother knew it. “So, what, you're just going to go live some normal, apple pie life, is that it?” he demanded. “Not worry about your family, Sam?!” He couldn't believe they were having this conversation. “You're just gonna run off on your own and not care, huh? We're your _family_ , Sam! We've been here for you your whole life, and you're just going to abandon us?!” Abandon _him_. Of course, Dean didn't say the last part.

“It's not like that, Dean!” Sam argued. “I'm just going to college! I'll be in Palo Alto! You'll know exactly where I am at all times, Dean!” Sam knew this had to be hard on his brother. More than anything in the world, Dean cared about his family. It was small, and broken, but Dean did his best to keep the remaining members together and happy. But Sam couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't pass up this opportunity. 

Still, he felt awful for putting that look on Dean's face. “Hey, you know I'm not leaving you, right?” Sam offered, trying to catch Dean's eyes once more. But Dean was doing everything he could to avoid Sam's gaze. “Dean, you can come visit me any time you want to. As soon as I'm settled and I have an apartment, I can text you the address, and you can come hang out.”

A humorless chuckle escaped Dean at the thought of going to see Sam at school. “Oh yeah, let me just come and spend time with your spoiled brat, rich kid classmates,” he grumped. “I'd really fit in there, huh Sammy?” He wasn't stupid. Even if Sam was denying it, this was goodbye.

It hurt knowing what Dean thought about the man he was going to become. “Dean, you know that I don't care what they think,” Sam assured him. “Your my brother. You'll be welcome at my place any time you want to stop over. And if they have a problem with that, they can just leave.” Again, Sam tried to catch Dean's gaze, this time succeeding. “Look, I don't have a ride there, alright? Why don't you and I hop into the Impala and just take a road trip? I don't have to be there until Monday, anyway. What do you think?”

What did he think? He didn't want Sam to go, that's what he thought. But he knew that once Sam Winchester put his mind to something, nothing could be done to change it. Basically, Sam was offering him one last road trip, and Dean would have been a damn idiot not to take him up on his offer. “Yeah, Sammy,” Dean answered, stuffing his hand into his pocket and fisting his keys. “C'mon, get in.”

He didn't even bother telling John where they were going. John could worry about it for the next few days until Dean decided to answer his phone. This, with Sam, Dean was going to enjoy this. After all, he wasn't going to get the pleasure of being with his brother again for a while. Of course, he could always hope that Sam would change his mind – maybe he couldn't hack it in college and he'd call Dean up and ask him to come get him. Dean knew it probably wouldn't happen, but he could dream.

Over the next few days, he and Sam spent every waking second together. It wasn't too far out of their normal daily routine since they basically spent every minute together anyway, but it felt different to Dean. Probably because he knew this was the last time. 

How was he going to accept that, though? How was he going to move past this? Just forget that he'd spent the last eighteen years of his life spending time with his brother? There was no way Dean could do that. No, he and Sam were too close for that. They were bonded – Dean could never forget that Sam had been by his side all of these years. Hell, when Sam wasn't around sometimes, it was still like Dean could feel him there. He was too in tune with his brother not to have him around all of the time.

It was going to be an adjustment. One Dean didn't want to make. But Sam wasn't giving him much of a choice here. Sure, Sam said that he could come visit whenever he wanted, but Dean knew where that road was going to lead. Sam would let him come hang out for a little while – maybe the first few weeks. And then he would start making excuses – he had to study for this test, or that pop quiz. He'd have to do homework and he couldn't be distracted. Eventually, Sam would stop answering his calls, and they just wouldn't talk anymore. Dean would be like a distant memory.

After all, Dean knew how well long distance relationships worked out. He'd ghosted enough girls from no name towns in his lifetime to know exactly where this road was leading. And he couldn't let that happen. He _wouldn't_. 

The weekend sped by a lot faster than Dean ever remembered forty eight hours passing. He had the Impala idling next to the sidewalk of Stanford, a giant lump in his throat. “Sammy,” he breathed, his voice almost inaudible. “You're gonna call me when you get settled, right?” 

A small, sad smile came to Sam's lips at Dean's question. He knew this was hard for his brother. It was hard for him, too. But he had to do this. He wanted a better life for himself. He wanted a future. He wanted stability. Being a hunter couldn't provide any of that for him. “Yes, Dean,” he smiled. “I promise. As soon as I find a place, I'll call you.” Chuckling, holding back the tears that wanted to fall, Sam added, “You can help me move in. We can pick out furniture, or some shit.”

Furniture shopping – it was so normal. Dean didn't know the first thing about decorating, or shopping for furniture. But damn, it still sounded good. “Yeah, sounds good, Sammy,” Dean assured him. He felt tears pricking at his eyes, forcing him to clear his throat. “Well, you better get going. Don't want to be late for orientation, or whatever. You'll get kicked out before you even get to start.” And wouldn't that just be a treat?

Before he got out of the car, Sam leaned in, wrapping his long arms around his brother's shoulders. He knew this was going to be hard. He loved Dean with everything he had in him. Of course he did. Dean was his big brother. Dean had always been there for him. He hadn't spent more than one day away from Dean in the past, and now he was going out on his own and starting his own life. 

Of course, Sam had been serious about them spending time together. He didn't want this to be goodbye. It was more of a see ya later. Sam was going to have Dean over as much as the older man could swing with hunting. He really didn't care what his friends of thought of Dean – he was his brother, and Sam loved him. Hell, he wasn't even sure he was going to make any friends. They'd been raised to be loners. Sam was going to have to work on that.

When Sam pulled back from the hug, Dean saw the barely veiled tears in the younger man's eyes. “Are you sure this is what you wanna do, Sammy?” Dean asked, eyes searching his brother's face for any signs of doubt. “I can turn this car around and we can catch up with Dad in a few days, tops.” And no, he wasn't wishing with everything he had that Sam told him to whip a U-turn and get them the hell out of here.

“Dean, I'm sure,” Sam assured his brother with a nod. “Like I said, I'll call you when I'm settled, okay?” He could see the sadness in Dean's face as he merely nodded. Dean didn't want him to go – that much was obvious. But unlike their father, Dean wasn't going to stop him. Dean would never try to steal Sam's dreams away from him. 

With one last smile at his brother, Sam unfolded his tall frame from the car. Leaning in through the open window, Sam reached into the back seat and collected his duffel. He lingered in the window for a minute, fingers twitching against the interior of the car. For so long, this car had been more like home than anything else to him. Sam was going to be sad to see it drive off with Dean in the driver's seat. “Be careful, Dean,” Sam pleaded, knowing his brother wasn't going to stop hunting on his account.

The smile Dean shot him spoke volumes. Dean Winchester was known for being cocky. And Sam knew that he really didn't _have_ to worry about Dean, but he still did. After all, Dean Winchester was one of the best hunters there were. He better be – he'd learned from _the_ best. But Dean was also self sacrificing and hot headed sometimes. Sam didn't want him to go off half-cocked and get himself into trouble.

A single tear slid down his cheek as he watched the Impala's tail lights disappear onto the main drag, Sam quickly wiping it away. This is what he wanted. He was at school. He was ready to start furthering his education and living the life he wanted. This was a happy moment. Sighing, Sam hoisted his duffel onto his shoulder, heading into the building to grab a seat before orientation started.

As promised, Sam called Dean once he'd found a place. Dean had come to Palo Alto when he'd finished his hunt, and he and Sam had gone shopping for furniture. Dean bought Sam a king-sized bed as a house warming present, figuring his not so little brother needed something comfortable to lay on after a hard day's study session.

After they'd gotten everything delivered to the apartment, Sam ordered them a pizza. Dean provided the beers since no one around here would sell alcohol to Sam because he was still underage. It was a nice night of catching up and just watching some random sports channel. Dean crashed on the brand new couch that night, and he was gone before Sam woke the next morning. 

Days bled into weeks, and Sam and Dean didn't really talk as much as they'd used to. Sam had made some friends, and he spent most of his free time studying. After all, if he didn't keep his grades up, Sam knew there was no way he was going to be able to stay here. It wasn't like he had a college trust fund tucked away somewhere, or his parents were paying his way like most of the kids here. No, Sam was on his own with this one.

Dean was keeping busy taking on every hunt he could find in order to drown out the constant nagging he had in the back of his head that Sam was drifting away from him. He'd known this was going to happen – he'd known that as time went on, Sam was going to start pulling away. And he thought that he'd prepared himself for it. But apparently, he'd been wrong. Apparently, it was a lot harder to deal with than he thought it was going to be.

So, Dean killed every evil sonuvabitch that he came across. And he saved a lot of people doing it, too. After hunts, he'd go celebrate at a bar and bury himself so far into the flavor of the week that he almost forgot about Sam. _Almost._ He ignored the fact that the women he chose to spend his time with had long, chestnut locks and champagne hazel eyes. 

Even more, he ignored the fact that when those women just weren't doing it for him, he switched to men in their early twenties. Men with a well muscled frame and slightly slanted eyes. That first night he'd cried out Sam's name while he was buried deep inside some no-name kid's ass had been a turning point for him. Apparently, the guy's name had been Josh – who the hell cared? – and he didn't appreciate being called someone else's name. 

Josh had flipped out. He'd shoved Dean away from him and started screaming at him. Dean just wanted it to stop. Sam wouldn't treat him like this. Sam wouldn't argue with him after he was just giving him the most mind blowing sex of his life. Dean hadn't meant to snap the kid's neck – he just wanted it to stop. 

Every night after that, it got a lot easier. Dean went on a hunt, then he'd celebrate at the bar where he'd pick up a guy with shaggy brown hair and hazel eyes. He'd take him back to his motel, fuck him, and then kill him. It became a routine – something Dean craved. If Dean couldn't have Sam, no one could. Finally, Dean had to admit to himself that he needed to go see the real thing. He'd created an elaborate plan to pull Sammy back into the hunting game by giving him the names of all of the kids who'd died in _mysterious fashions_ in random towns he'd been in.

When Sam saw what the guys looked like, he wouldn't be able to resist acting as bait. He'd want to help in any way he could. Sam would want to save any future victims. Grabbing his coat, Dean arranged the body much like he had the rest, making it look like a demon had gotten their hands on the kid. Dean was good at staging a murder scene – he'd seen enough of them to know what to do.

The chill of the spring air whipped around Dean's face as he walked to the Impala, a small skip in his step. He was going to finally see Sam again. And more importantly, he was going to be hunting with Sam again. They'd find some no-name, low level demon to pin this all on. Dean would show Sam while they were doing it how good they were at this – how Sammy belonged in this life. And everything would be right as rain.

Because the fact of the matter was, the night Sam left for Stanford was the night that caused Dean's psyche to break.


	2. Chapter Two

Sam flipped through the page on his book, eyes scanning over the words as he soaked in the knowledge. His professor had hinted at a pop quiz the following day, and Sam was going to be prepared. After all, they were only a few weeks away from finals, and Sam wanted to be prepared. Even if there wasn't a pop quiz in class the following day, he had an interview with the Dean on Monday, and it was his whole future on a plate. He _really_ needed this.

Movement from the other side of the room caught Sam's attention, momentarily dragging him from his studies. A small smile came to his lips when he saw Jessica moving around the room. They'd been dating for about a year and a half, and Sam had never been happier. She didn't know the Sam Winchester who hunted monsters and moved around from state to state his whole life.

No, she only knew Sam Winchester, the studious law school student who was just a few years from making something of himself. She loved him. And Sam loved her. He'd even been shopping for rings with his free time. He hadn't found anything yet, but he was close – he had to be. His smile widened when Jessica moved toward him, Sam closing his book and scooting to the edge of the bed to meet her.

“Are you sure you don't want to come out with us tonight?” Jessica asked, smiling at Sam seductively. The shirt she was wearing hugged her in all of the right places, cut just low enough to show a peek of cleavage. Her shorts were cut high up on her long, slender legs, and when she moved just right, her shirt would slide up, revealing more of her tight, tanned flesh.

Sam was really tempted to go with her. Jessica was always very persuasive. But he really needed to study. This was more important than going out and having a few drinks with his friends. Besides, it wasn't like she wasn't coming home to him tonight. He could have his way with her later if she would let him. “I can't,” Sam apologized. “I really have to study. This professor is a tyrant. He'll take points off scores for the smallest things.”

Another small smile came to Jessica's lips when Sam apologized. She knew Sam was working his ass off trying to keep his grades up, and she wasn't going to punish him for that. Sam's drive was one of the things about him that turned her on. “It's okay, Sam,” she assured him. “I understand.” Leaning in, Jessica pressed her lips to Sam's. “I'll be home late. Don't wait up. I'll see you in the morning.”

The sound of the door closing had Sam grabbing his book once more. He had a few more chapters to brush up on, and he wanted to get them done before he crashed for the evening. As the hours dragged on, Sam felt his eyes getting heavy. And although Jessica told him he didn't need to wait up for her, Sam was going to wait up. It was just what he did – he needed to make sure she was okay.

Sighing, Sam tossed his book onto the bed and grabbed his jacket. If he had any intention of staying awake until Jessica got back – which he did – he was going to need some caffeine. There was a twenty four hour little coffee shop within walking distance, so Sam knew that he could be there and back within fifteen minutes.

So, once he had his shoes on, Sam headed out the door. The night air was chillier than usual this evening, forcing Sam to wrap his coat around himself a little tighter. He could only imagine how cold Jessica probably was right now. In retrospect, he was kind of wishing that he had gone with her. Then he wouldn't be walking down the street to his favorite little coffee shop wishing that he was with her. But he knew that it would all be worth it in the end. When he finally graduated, he'd feel accomplished, and he could give Jessica the life she deserved.

But he had to graduate first. And that required him to study. And studying was going to require some more coffee. When he walked into the coffee shop, Sam smiled at the barista. He knew her from some of his classes – she was nice. “Hi Rebecca,” he greeted, dimples denting his cheeks. “Uh...I'll have the usual. Add an extra shot of espresso, please?”

“Late night?” Rebecca asked with a chuckle, getting to work on making Sam's latte. She smiled once more when Sam confirmed it. “I know what you mean. I have my books behind the counter here. I've been studying all night.”

Another wide grin came to her lips when she handed Sam his latte, taking the money he owed her. “Well, it was nice to see you, Sam,” she said. “Let's all get together sometime soon and do dinner, or something. I've been dying to pick Jessica's brain about a few things.”

Now, it was Sam's turn to smile, quickly nodding. “Yeah, we can do that. For sure,” he answered. “I don't think Jessica and I have anything going on next weekend. If you're not working, we should all try to set something up.” With that, Sam headed out of the shop, moving toward his apartment once more. The latte was warm against his hand, slightly burning his throat as he took his first sip. And Rebecca had made it strong for him, which he was grateful for. There was no way he was falling asleep for quite some time after this drink.

**~~**

The sound of a dog barking drew him from his sleep. Quickly, he rolled over in his bed, rolling off the side and stepping into his boots. He wasted no time as he ran down the steps, grabbing his shotgun off the end table on his way to the door. Slowly, he opened it, ready to shoot first and ask questions later. However, when he saw John Winchester standing on his porch, he lowered his weapon, rolling his eyes. “What the hell are you doin' sneakin' around my property this late at night?” he demanded. “Yer lucky I didn't shoot you full of buckshot.”

When the door opened, John shot a small, sad smile in the man's direction. “Hey Bobby,” John greeted, knowing this was going to be one of the toughest reunions he'd had in quite some time. “How long has it been?”

A while. The last time John had been here, Bobby had threatened to give him a third hole if he didn't get off his property. But that had been a long time ago. And Bobby knew the only way John would be here right now is if it was really important. “Not long enough,” he gruffed, opening his door wider. “C'mon, you better git in here before this wind blows my salt lines to hell.”

As soon as he was invited, John entered Bobby's home. Nothing had changed since the last time he'd been here. Not that John was surprised. After Bobby's wife had died, he hadn't really been too keen on the upkeep of his place. Of course, John didn't blame him. At least Bobby still had a home. That was more than he could say about himself. “How have you been?” John asked, trying to test the waters before he broke the news to the other hunter.

Suspicion was written all over Bobby's face when John tried to make small talk. John Winchester wasn't the small talk kind of guy. He was all about business all of the time. When he wasn't, there was more than likely something wrong. “Peachy,” Bobby blurted out, moving past John and heading to his kitchen where he gathered two beers from the fridge. Handing one to John, Bobby took a sip from his own, watching for any signs of discomfort from his guest.

Nothing – that was a good sign. “What the hell are ya doin' here, Winchester?” Bobby finally asked, wanting to get this meeting over with so he could hopefully get some more sleep before the sun rose. He'd been up on the phones all day trying to keep other hunters out of trouble, and he just didn't have much more left in him for the day.

Right down to business – Bobby was good for that. “I have a problem,” John explained, still a little unsure about how to go about this situation. After all, Bobby knew his family – they were practically his family, too as far as his sons were concerned. So this wasn't going to be easy for him. “I think Sammy might be in danger.”

At the mention of Sam being in danger, Bobby was all ears. “What do ya mean?” he asked, moving to his desk and taking a seat. “Last I heard, Sam was at college, safely tucked away studying to be a lawyer.” And wouldn't that come in handy in case any of them needed a get out of jail free card? “Did something happen?”

Quickly, John shook his head. “No, he's still there,” he assured Bobby. “But I found some interesting police reports over the last few weeks.” Pulling a folder out of his jacket, John handed it to Bobby. “There have been reports of young men turning up dead. They've all had a really close resemblance, but they've all been in different towns, different states, and had no affiliations with each other. The police haven't put the patterns together yet since the murders have been so far apart geographically.”

Without hesitation, Bobby grabbed the folder from John, taking a look at it for himself. The similarities between the victims were immediately obvious to Bobby. Of course, he wasn't surprised the police force wasn't putting it together. They weren't like hunters – they had trouble playing well with others. Honestly, Bobby was surprised they ever solved anything. 

After he looked at the last photo, Bobby placed the file down on the table. Leaning forward, he grabbed the whiskey, feeling like he and John were going to need something a little stronger to sort this out. He was silent as he poured both himself and John a glass. He watched as John took a seat across from him, shoving the amber liquid in the other man's direction. “They all look like yer boy,” Bobby stated the obvious.

Taking a long pull from the whiskey, John nodded. He'd noticed that all of the victims bore a strong resemblance to Sam as well. But that wasn't the worst of it. “There's more,” John explained, warily watching as Bobby took another drink. “I think I know who's killing these boys.” He took Bobby's annoyed expression as a sign that the older hunter wanted to know more. “I think it was staged to look like there was demonic activity when there really wasn't. I went to those towns when I put the pattern together and I was able to talk to a few of their friends. Turns out, the night they were all grabbed, they'd been inside bars enjoying a few drinks.”

Again, John took a drink. “I was able to talk to the bartenders from the nights the boys were murdered,” John continued. “Every one of them left with a man on the night they were murdered. And strangely enough, every one of the bartenders described the same man who left with each kid.” On a whim, John had asked the bartenders if they would be able to identify the man if they'd seen a photo of him – each bartender had identified the same man. 

“So, yer sayin' a human did this?” Bobby asked, a deep frown on his lips. People were crazy. Demons and monsters, he understood. But people – they were a completely different brand of nuts. When John nodded, Bobby merely rolled his eyes, taking another drink. “Have you turned your information into the police yet? This isn't our kind of thing, Winchester. Let the police handle the humans.”

That's where this whole situation got a little tricky. “It's not that cut and dry, Bobby,” John explained. “It's more of our kind of thing than I'd like to admit.” Tossing the rest of his drink back, John decided it was best to just rip the band-aid off quick. “Dean's been in every single one of those towns. And I had the bartenders look at a photo of him. Bobby, they identified him – every single one of them.”

All of the color drained from Bobby's face when John suggested that Dean was the one behind this. “Are you sayin' that Dean – _yer_ boy Dean – is the one doin' this?” Bobby asked, completely in shock. It was clear when John just looked away, ashamed, that was exactly what he was suggesting. There were a lot of things people could say about John Winchester, but when it came to his boys, the man would do anything to keep them safe. And he wouldn't make up lies about his sons either. “Why?”

This was going a lot more smoothly than John thought it was going to go. Apparently, the broken look on his face was enough to make Bobby see that he wasn't lying. “I don't know,” John answered with a shake of his head. “I mean, Sam and Dean have always been close – everyone who's ever met them knows that much. But when Sam left...Dean was...different.”

Shocked, Bobby leaned further against the desk, resting on his elbow. “Different how?” he demanded. He'd just seen Dean a few months back, and he'd seemed fine. He'd been a little tired, but other than that, he seemed fine. His normal self. Going to bars and picking up chicks just like he'd done any other day of his life. Though now, Bobby wasn't all that sure Dean had been picking up chicks. Maybe he'd been surveying for victims.

Shaking his head, John answered, “Just off. He stopped listening to me like he used to. And he demanded that he go off and hunt on his own.” Again, John shook his head, rubbing the furrow between his brows. “Maybe I shouldn't have let him. Maybe I should have _made_ him only go on supervised hunts. But he's twenty six! I thought for sure he could handle it.”

Oh, he handled it just fine. Bobby had heard about some of the hunts Dean had been on. Some hunters would even argue that he was competing with his father for the best hunter's award – if there had been such a thing, anyway. “I still don't understand,” Bobby admitted. “Why would Dean go after kids who look like his brother? And furthermore, why would he _kill_ kids who look like Sam? Dean loves Sam! It makes no sense.”

“I don't know!” John hollered, clearly aggravated and stressed out. “Maybe he's upset that Sam left us! Or...maybe he's jealous that Sam got to go off and try to have a normal life and Dean felt obligated to stay behind with me! I've run through countless scenarios in my head, Singer, and nothing makes sense!”

Because John was obviously stressed out, Bobby was going to let his outburst slide. “So, what now?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. “Are you worried that Sam is in trouble? I mean...do you really think Dean would _hurt_ Sam?”

Right now, John wasn't sure about anything. And he wasn't about to take any chances. “I don't know what Dean is planning on doing,” John admitted, defeat clear in his tone. “All I know is that Sam is in Palo Alto, and I need to go there. I need to make sure he's safe.” Eyes locked on Bobby's, John all but pleaded, “I need help hunting down Dean. I need to figure out what's gotten into the kid. He has to be possessed, right? Or...there's a shifter running around wearing his skin. It has to be something like that.”

Although Bobby was hoping the same thing, he couldn't rule out the possibility that maybe there wasn't anything wrong with Dean. After all, Dean was a _great_ hunter. And he wasn't stupid – his daddy had taught him well. Bobby couldn't see anything happening to him in the field. Though, he'd been wrong about these kinds of things before, so he could only hope that this was an imposter and the real Dean was off hunting some other big bad, completely unaware of what was happening right here and now. “Of course I'll help ya find yer boy,” Bobby answered. “Not even a question. You know I love them kids like they're my own.”

It was like a weight had been lifted from John's shoulders when Bobby agreed to help him. “Thanks,” he grumbled, barely audible. John had never been one to really ask for help – or thank someone when he had to get help. “And Bobby, let's keep this between us. I don't want other hunters catching wind of this and hunting down my boy. If this is really Dean, I'll handle it.”

He waited until he received the nod from the older hunter before he was out the door, leaving his files with Bobby. John didn't need them anymore. He'd gotten everything he needed from them. Right now, he just wanted to know his youngest son was safe. Sure, he could have called Sam, but a part of him was scared that the younger Winchester wouldn't answer his phone. John had never handled rejection well.

When he heard the engine of John's black truck fire up, Bobby grabbed the files he'd left behind. If he was going to help with this case, he needed to have all of his facts straight. There was a lot of information to comb through here. So much for that good night's sleep he'd been planning on.

**~~**

Dean stared across the bar at the floppy locks of chestnut hair and the deep dimples denting his little brother's cheeks. Sammy looked good – _really good_. It had been almost two years since he'd seen the younger man, and Dean was ready for their reunion. 

When he'd gotten into this bar, he'd been planning on going to the table where Sam was sitting and just striking up a conversation like old times. He'd gone around campus today trying to figure out where he might find his little brother since he hadn't been at his apartment, and a couple of Sam's friends had told him about their plans to come drinking tonight. After all, it was Halloween. Damn college kids and their stupid excuses to go get drunk.

His brother had looked adorable in his jean jacket with his blue flannel underneath. That peek of Sam's gray T-shirt just visible through the two open buttons of Sam's flannel. Dean loved the way Sam took inspiration with his clothing choices from him – Dean had taught him to dress like that when they were still really young. Of course, Dean had learned it from their father, so it was more like a family style.

He'd been ready to go over and chat it up with Sam when a woman in a skimpy nurse's outfit threw herself all over him. And where the fuck had she come from?! Dean had nearly broken his beer bottle he'd been holding it so tightly as he watched that slut slobber all over his brother like he belonged to her, or something. She was going to learn just who Sammy belonged to – Dean was going to make sure of that.

After about twenty minutes of that skank running her hands over Sam and hanging all over him like he was a slab of meat, Dean was finished. Slamming his beer bottle down, Dean exited the bar, needing to go blow off some steam. He'd just have to have their little reunion another time. And next time, he'd make sure that bitch wasn't around to destroy it for them.


	3. Chapter Three

Dean glared at the slut – _Jessica_ – as she sauntered away from his brother. Those damn puppy eyes were following her like she was Sam's entire world. Dean remembered when Sam had stared at him like that. Today was the day. Dean had overheard that little miss party girl was going out with her friends, which meant Sam was going to be all alone. 

He waited a few minutes after Sam closed the door to his apartment, figuring he'd give his little brother some time to settle before he dropped by. After all, Dean knew that Sam was supposed to be studying tonight. That interview on Monday morning wasn't going to pass itself. Dean knew his brother well enough to know that Sam would want to be sharp – he'd want to be prepared. Sam was good like that.

After what seemed like hours, though one glance at the clock told him it was mere minutes, Dean climbed out of the car. The familiar creek of the door closing brought warmth to Dean's heart – damn, he loved this car almost as much as he loved Sam. _Almost_. For a split second, Dean wondered if he should knock on the door, or if he should break in through the window. Give little Sammy a crash course – see if his brother remembered his training. 

Ultimately, Dean decided to just knock on the door. There would be plenty of time to see if Sam had gotten rusty over the years later. When Sam was back on the road hunting with Dean. When he was back where he belonged. It took a few moments, but the door finally opened, revealing Sam to Dean's wanting eyes.

“What's wrong? Did you forget something?” Sam asked as he opened the door, expecting it to be Jessica back to take him up on his offer of some loving before she left to see her friends. However, when he realized that Dean was the one who'd knocked on his door, Sam's breath practically caught in his throat. “Dean?” he asked, champagne hazel eyes wide as he took in the sight of his brother. “What are you doing here?”

His eyes raked over Sam's tall, muscular frame for as long as he could without making it too obvious that he was staring. “What do you mean what am I doing here?” Dean asked, smiling widely at his brother. “I came to see you. I was in the area. Figured we could catch up. Maybe have a beer?” A deep frown came to his lips when Sam continued to just gape at him. “I mean, I can come back if this isn't a good time.”

As if he snapped out of it, Sam quickly shook his head. “No, Dean, it's fine,” Sam assured his brother. “Come on in. I just...wasn't expecting company.” Closing the door behind his brother, Sam headed to the kitchen, grabbing a couple of beers. He handed one to Dean before he opened his own, taking a long pull. “Wow...it's been a while. Is everything okay?”

Taking a drink from the offered beer, Dean nodded. “Yeah, everything's fine,” he assured the younger man. “Why wouldn't it be?” Taking a seat on the bed next to Sam's books, Dean made himself comfortable. “Damn, can't a man just come visit his brother when he's in town?”

A small frown came to Sam's lips as he watched Dean settle in. Apparently, he was staying for a while. So much for that study session Sam was going to try to cram in. “No, you know you can come see me any time you want to, Dean,” Sam assured his brother. “I just...like I said, I wish you would have called first. I was planning on studying all night.”

Anger and hurt bubbled up inside Dean when Sam once again made a big deal about him not calling before he showed up. Damn, had he known he was such an inconvenience, Dean wouldn't have bothered trying to play nice. “It sounded like you were planning on having company when you opened the door,” Dean countered, moss green eyes locked on his little brother's. And damn, if that blush wasn't fucking adorable. Little Sammy, still so shy about his sexual conquests.

For a second, Sam fidgeted in his seat, eyes darting to the floor. “I thought you were Jess,” Sam explained, biting into his bottom lip. “She's...um...she's not company. She lives here, too. She's my girlfriend, Dean.”

 _Girlfriend_. Dean hated that word coming from Sam's lips. Sam didn't need a girlfriend. The only thing Sam needed was Dean. And Dean was right here, dammit! “Girlfriend, huh, Sammy?” Dean asked, scooting down to the bottom of the bed so he could be closer to his brother. “Wow, Sammy, that's...that's really cute.” In a disgusting sort of way. “How long have you two been together?”

He needed a minute to think. Dean wasn't even paying attention as Sam blabbered on about the little blonde trollop who was trying to ruin his plans. Instead, he was working up ways to get Sam away from her. There had to be a way. Dean's plan to get Sam to come hunting with him was kind of moot at this point. He wasn't going to leave that sweet little piece of ass he had. Dean knew that just from watching how Sam lit up at the thought of her. And again, Sammy used to do that with him back in the day. Clearly, it had been too long since they'd been together.

When Sam looked at Dean and asked if he was okay, Dean still hadn't formulated a decent plan. “Why wouldn't I be okay, Sammy?” Dean asked, jaw ticking with aggravation. “I mean, you just stopped calling. You stopped texting. You just fell off the face of the Earth. And then when I come here to see you, you act like it's an inconvenience. And now I see why.”

Confusion was clear on Sam's face as his brother spoke. He didn't understand why Dean was all of a sudden so angry. He thought they'd been having a nice conversation. “Dean, it's not like that,” Sam answered, shaking his head. “I've been busy with school. I've been studying. I have to keep my grades up. I'm not like the other kids here. If I don't get a scholarship for the next semester, I'm not going to be able to continue my education here, Dean.”

Scoffing, Dean spat, “Yeah, well maybe that's for the best, Sam!” He knew the second the words left his mouth that it was a mistake. Sam got that bitch face he always got when he was told he was being stupid. In any other instance, Dean would have thought it was adorable. But not tonight. Not right now. He was pissed right now. “It's about time you come back to your family! Come back to me! Where you belong!”

Again, Sam was gaping at Dean like he'd just grown a second head. “What are you talking about, Dean?!” Sam demanded, shaking his head. “I'm not leaving school! I've worked too hard to get this far just to give up!” He was appalled that Dean would even suggest such a thing. “I thought you wanted me to be here! You wanted me to do what I thought was best for me! Isn't that what you said when you helped me move into this place?!”

Sure, that's what Dean had said. But he hadn't meant a damn word of it. And he sure as hell hadn't thought Sam was going to shack up with some pretty little blonde thing in skimpy clothing. “Yeah, well that was then,” Dean mumbled, knowing that if he didn't get Sam out of here fast, he was going to lose his mind. “You can't tell me that you're actually happy here, Sammy! You can't be! You've gotta be missing it.” _Missing me_ – Dean didn't say the words, but he wanted to.

Now, it was Sam's turn to scoff. “Missing what, Dean?” Sam demanded. “Hunting? Yeah, I don't think so.” Sure, hunting had some perks. He did like saving people. But the down sides far outweighed the good sides. And Sam was never going back to that life. He'd sooner die. “I _like_ school, Dean. I have a life here. I have a girlfriend. I'm about to go to an interview on Monday and hopefully have my future laid out on a plate for me.” 

He felt tears pricking at the backs of his eyes as he thought about what Dean was saying to him. Back when he'd started school, he'd at least had Dean's support. But it seemed now that he didn't even have that. Dean and their father were on the same page now, and Sam wasn't sure how he felt about that. Sure, he and Dean hadn't spoken much – or, at all – over the last two years, but he'd at least known he could call Dean up any time and not feel like he was being alienated. “I thought you wanted me to be happy.”

Without thinking, Dean pushed himself off the bed, moving to kneel in front of Sam. “I do, Sammy,” Dean assured his brother. He'd seen the tears Sam was barely managing to hold back, and he hated himself for putting them there. “Sammy, I want you to be happy. You know that. I just...I think you'd be happier if you were where you belong. You know?”

Where he belonged? That was the second time Dean had used that phrase since he'd gotten here. As far as Sam was concerned, this is exactly where he belonged. “Dean, I am where I belong,” Sam assured his brother. “I belong in school. I wanna be a lawyer. You know that.”

Again, anger bubbled up inside Dean when Sam argued with him. “You think this is where you belong?” Dean asked, more venom in his words than he'd intended there to be. “In this school with these preppy, trust fund babies? With that skanky little bitch you're calling your girlfriend? Sammy, she's out there partying when you're here trying to keep your grades up! You're better than her! You deserve better than that!”

When Sam tried to argue with him again – obviously having his feathers ruffled at the way Dean was wording things – Dean quickly shut him down. “Sammy, you don't belong here. It was fun while it lasted, I'm sure, but you know this isn't where you're meant to be.” Unable to resist, Dean carded his fingers through Sam's hair, keeping a tight grip on the younger Winchester, even as Sam protested. “You know you belong with me, Sammy. Always have. Always will.”

Without thinking, Dean leaned in, crushing his lips against Sam's. He moaned against his brother's soft skin as soon as he made contact, tongue shoving past Sam's lips and teeth when the younger man gasped in shock. It was better than Dean could have imagined. _Way_ better than those imposters who had tried to take Sam's place. They all paled in comparison to Dean.

Before he could deepen the kiss any further, Sam shoved him away. Quickly, the younger man stood, eyes wide with shock as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I—” Sam started, obviously in shock. “I think you should leave, Dean.” Sam had no idea what was happening right now. The only thing he did know was that he wanted Dean out of his apartment. 

“No,” Dean protested. Pushing himself to his feet, Dean closed the gap Sam had managed to put between them, his hands gripping at whatever part of Sam he could reach. “Sammy, stop it,” Dean all but begged, pulling his little brother against him as he tried to plant another kiss on those delicious lips. “Don't fight me. You know I'm right about this.”

Sam couldn't breathe. He felt like he was being suffocated. Dean's scent was all around him, clogging his senses and making him dizzy. “Dean, please?” Sam whispered, shoving at his brother as Dean tried to pull him closer. “Dean, stop.” Dean wasn't listening, and it was really starting to get to Sam. “Dean!” Still, Dean wasn't letting up. Sam didn't know what else to do. So, he shoved Dean away from him again, this time actually putting some distance between them. “You need to leave, Dean. _Now_.”

This behavior Sam was exhibiting was really starting to piss Dean off. “I said no, Sam,” Dean reminded, eyes raking over his brother's body. He'd give him his space for now, but he wasn't finished with Sam. They were going to pick up where they left off. “I'm not leavin' this town without you. I told you that you need to come with me.”

He knew his brother wasn't deaf or stupid, which lead Sam to believe that he just wasn't listening. “Dean, you're not listening to me!” Sam shouted. “I'm not leaving! I'm staying right here! In college! Studying to be lawyer! Living with _my girlfriend_!” Shaking his head, Sam tried to make sense of everything that was happening right now. “Dean, what's gotten into you?!”

What had gotten into him? That was a really good question. One day he was just minding his own business at a bar. He'd tried to hit on the bartender, but for some reason another patron caught his eye. A patron who bore a damn close resemblance to his little brother. And it was in that moment, he realized that he wanted his brother. And he hadn't been able to shake that feeling. He'd tried. Dammit, he'd tried so hard. But every night he'd go to a bar, he'd pick up another chestnut haired, hazel eyed man to take back to his motel and fuck silly. 

But how the hell was he supposed to explain all of that to Sam without freaking the younger man out?! Fuck it – Sam was going to figure it out eventually. “You, Sam!” Dean hissed, taking a step closer to his brother. “You left me! You said you'd keep in touch, and then you just stopped! And I tried to fight it, Sammy. I wanted to fight it so bad. But I just couldn't. And those men...they looked like you. But they weren't you. They weren't the real thing, Sammy. They were fakes. Liars.”

It took Sam a minute to process everything that Dean was saying. However, when Sam realized what Dean was talking about, he felt like he was going to be sick. “Dean...” he breathed, horror clear on his features. “Those men that have been popping up on the news. The ones that were murdered. It-It looked like demon attacks. That...it was you?”

“I had to, Sammy,” Dean whispered, moving closer to Sam once again. Only this time, when he tried to get closer, Sam moved back. “I needed you, and you weren't there, Sam! You just disappeared! Off living your apple pie life! Trying to live the dream! When you should have been with me!”

As he spoke, Dean continued to walk toward Sam, effectively backing the younger Winchester into a corner. Had Sam not been out of practice, he probably could have avoided that. But it was too late now. Roughly, Dean pinned Sam to the wall. “Don't you get it, Sam?” Dean continued. “There's no one else in this world for us! We've been there for each other since the beginning! Bonds like that don't just get swept under the rug for a pair of tits and a tight ass!”

Had Sam been paying closer attention, he wouldn't have backed himself into a corner like this where Dean could trap him. But it was too late for that now. Dean had him. And he was rambling nonsense at him and Sam didn't know what to do. “Dean, come on, you're talking crazy!” Sam argued. “You just told me that you killed people! _Innocent_ people! Dean, you need help! Let me help you!”

Laughing humorlessly, Dean pressed his face into the crook of Sam's neck, breathing in his brother's unique scent. “Oh, Sammy, they weren't innocent,” Dean assured him. “They were _far_ from innocent.” His expression hardened when Sam suggested that he needed help, his angry gaze locked on Sam. “I don't need help, Sam. I just need you.”

It was becoming increasingly clear that Sam was going to need a little bit of convincing before he agreed to come with Dean. And Dean knew exactly what he could use against his brother – Jessica. After all, Sam seemed to be very fond of her. “You know Sammy, those men that I killed? They were about as innocent as Jessica is.” 

A small smile came to Dean's lips when Sam's breath hitched in his throat, the younger man asking Dean what he meant. “Oh, you know, Sam,” he continued, shrugging slightly. “Those men were trying to tear us apart. They were trying to make me want them and not you. Trying to persuade me with their looks. Like that was going to work. And Jessica is doing the same thing to you. She's trying to take you away from me.” Shrugging, Dean shoved himself away from the wall, taking a few steps away from Sam. 

He could tell that Sam was scared. He could see the wheels turning in his brother's head as he tried to put the pieces of what Dean was saying together. Of course, Dean figured he could sweeten the pot – make it a little easier for his brother to see the light. Reaching into the waistband of his pants, Dean pulled out his favorite pistol, running his fingers over the barrel lovingly. “Maybe I should just take care of her now, Sam. I mean, she's obviously already become a problem.”

Eyes wide with fear, Sam quickly shook his head. “Dean, no, you can't!” Sam argued. “P-Please! She isn't a part of this. Just...leave her alone!” Jessica didn't need to die because of Sam's stupidity. This was between him and Dean, and Sam was going to keep it that way. Too many people had already died because of this. Sam couldn't bear adding Jessica's name to that list.

“She _is_ a part of this, Sam!” Dean argued, holding his gun at his side now so he could focus on his brother. “She's the reason you're acting like this. I guarantee it's not _all_ about school. If you're really interested in being a lawyer, there's online classes you can take. No...you just don't wanna leave her.”

Sam was at a loss. He needed to save Jessica, and he needed to do it now. “I'll come with you!” Sam blurted out, feeling something inside him shatter as the words left his lips. “If-If you promise to leave Jessica alone, I'll come with you.” For a long minute, Dean just stared at him, almost as if he were weighing his options. “But-But...you have to promise you won't hurt any more innocent people. If I come with you, the killing stops.”

The seconds seemed to drag out into minutes before Dean finally smiled at Sam. Again, he tucked his gun into his waistband, concealing it with his shirt once more. “That's all I wanted to hear, Sammy,” Dean explained giddily. “Get your shit packed. We're leaving now. I wouldn't want to have to get her out of the way when she tries to stop you from coming with me.”

As he packed up his bags, Sam felt a sinking weight in the pit of his stomach. He didn't know what time it was, or when Jessica planned on coming back, but he hoped that she stayed gone until they left the apartment. The last thing Sam needed was Jessica to come here and demand an explanation about what Sam was doing. He really didn't have one – not a _good_ one anyway. And telling her that his brother had threatened her life and had gone on a killing spree to get his back wasn't exactly an option.

After about ten minutes, Sam's bag was packed and he was ready to go. Dean lead them to the Impala with a wide grin on his lips. He started the engine as soon as they were in the confines of his baby. His hand found it's way to Sam's knee, drawing his brother's attention to him. “I'm really glad you decided to come with me, Sammy,” Dean smiled. “It hasn't been the same without you. And...about that kiss back there. Look, I know you're probably freaked out, alright? And we don't have to do anything until you're ready. I just...I want you to know that I'm ready when you are.”

With that, Dean pulled out onto the road, turning up the _Metallica_ song he had playing on the radio. He didn't notice the way Sam was retreating into the door, trying to get as far away from Dean as he possibly could. All he was focused on was the open road ahead of them.


	4. Chapter Four

The diner was pretty dead when they walked through the front doors. Not that Sam was surprised. After all, it was late. It looked like there were just a few regulars straggling behind. Silently, Sam slid into one of the booths along the far wall, trying to keep his head down so Dean didn't think he was looking at anyone. He'd been with Dean now for a few weeks, and he learned that in order to keep Dean happy, he had to practically make himself invisible to the rest of the world.

He kept silent as his brother plopped into the seat across from him, grabbing up a menu. Dean hadn't wanted to stop, but Sam insisted. They'd been in the car for hours now and Sam just needed to stretch. Plus, he was starting to get hungry. Maybe if he was lucky, he could talk Dean into getting them a room so he could stretch out on a bed. That sounded amazing.

When the waitress came over, Dean ordered them two coffees and sent her on her way. His whole body was tense as he read over the menu, quickly deciding on his meal for the evening. As he waited for Sam to choose what he wanted to eat, Dean's eyes scanned the diner. He felt like everyone was looking at them – looking at _Sam_. 

Dean nearly jumped out of his skin when the waitress put their coffee mugs on the table and asked what they would be having. Quickly, he ordered a burger – extra bacon – and fries. He watched the waitress as she took Sam's order, not even hearing what his brother was having over the roaring of his own blood in his ears. 

That fucking little trollop was looking at Sam like she wanted him to be hers. Dean wouldn't let that happen. No way in Hell. Over his dead body. His hand curled around his coffee cup, fingers drumming against the ceramic in his aggravation. He released the breath he'd been holding when the waitress finally walked off, her hips swaying so damn much Dean was surprised she didn't dislocate her fucking hip.

Sam realized the minute Dean started to get aggravated. He'd started to pick up on Dean's unspoken cues. Like when he tapped his fingers, it usually meant he was irritated about something. Swallowing thickly, Sam pulled his coffee mug over to himself, hunching over and trying to make himself as small as he possibly could once more as he hugged his cup to his chest. “What's wrong, Dean?” Sam asked, scared, champagne hazel eyes locking on his brother.

Hearing Sam speak, Dean's attention was immediately drawn to the younger Winchester. “I don't like the way that bitch is lookin' at you,” Dean answered honestly. He hadn't lied to Sam since they'd left Stanford, and he wasn't about to start now. “If she keeps it up, I'm gonna have to take care of her, Sammy.”

A small gasp escaped Sam when Dean mentioned _taking care of_ the waitress. Sam knew all too well what that meant. “Dean, please?” Sam begged, biting into his bottom lip as he fidgeted with a chip in coffee mug. “You...said it would stop. If I came with you, no more innocent people would be killed. That was the deal, Dean.”

“They're not innocent if they're trying to take what's mine!” Dean hissed, his anger getting the best of him for a moment. He regret it when he saw Sam cower further in on himself. He didn't want to scare Sam. But he just got so angry when people looked at him. Dean knew exactly what was running through their heads when they allowed their gazes to linger on Sam. And Sam was _his_.

In all honesty, Sam didn't care who was looking at him. It wasn't like he was looking back. And wasn't that what really mattered, anyway. Sam figured that should be the deciding factor. “Dean, no one can take me unless I let them,” Sam tried to placate his brother. “And I wouldn't let them. I don't even look back. C'mon Dean, I can't even tell you what color hair the waitress has! _That's_ how much I'm paying attention to her.”

Although Dean wanted to believe Sam, he was having some trouble. “You let that bitch at Stanford take you from me,” Dean reminded, his voice cold. “Who's to say you wouldn't do it again?” He had trust issues where Sam was involved. After all, the kid had abandoned him, and then shacked up with some slut. Dean had to practically threaten Sam to come with him. So yeah, he wasn't feeling too confident in Sam's loyalty to him.

At the mention of Jessica, Sam felt his heart restrict in his chest. “I wouldn't do that again,” Sam assured his brother. “I learned my lesson, okay? You can trust me.” Damn, did he learn his lesson. The men on the news day after day that looked surprisingly like him wouldn't let him forget that lesson any time soon. 

He wanted to believe Sam – really, he did. But there was something inside him telling him that he still needed to watch the other man. Before he could speak on the matter, the waitress was back at the table with their food. At least the service in this place was fast. Not that Dean was surprised – they were the only two customers in the joint who didn't have food. 

Again, Dean felt his anger rising when the waitress lingered just a little too long. “Thanks, we're good,” Dean all but growled at her, eyes narrowed as he watched her walk off. His attention snapped back to Sam when his brother said his name. “You can't tell me you didn't see that!” Dean argued. He couldn't believe Sam was trying to make him the bad guy here! He wasn't the one trying to undress someone else's man with his eyes! It was that damn waitress!

While Sam didn't realize that the waitress was staring at him for too long, he knew it was bothering Dean. “It doesn't matter what she does,” Sam promised, eyes pleading with Dean. “I'm leaving this diner with you. I'm getting into the Impala with you. And when we stop to get a motel room, I'll be sleeping with you. She doesn't mean anything, Dean. Just...ignore her. Eat your burger.”

That was a lot easier said than done. The diner being dead was more of a curse than a blessing because that gave the bitch more time to spend checking on their table. Finally, Dean couldn't take it anymore. He'd had enough. Angrily, he glared at the waitress. “Can we just get a box for his salad?” Dean ground out, eyes cold as he watched the waitress walk away. Turning his attention back to Sam, Dean explained, “We're leaving. We'll get a motel room somewhere close by so you don't have to be cramped in the car anymore. I know that's why you insisted on coming into a diner instead of just eating in the car.”

Of course Dean knew that. There wasn't much about Sam that Dean didn't know. “Okay,” Sam all but whispered, taking the last few sips of his coffee. When the waitress brought his box, Sam took it quickly, making sure he didn't even look at her as he started dumping his food into the Styrofoam container. He could feel Dean's eyes on him the whole time, Sam quickly slamming the lid closed and grabbing up his leftovers. 

Once Sam was ready, Dean threw a few bills down on the table before he all but dragged Sam out of the diner. The grip Dean had on Sam's elbow was bruising, causing Sam's face to twist up in pain. He didn't say anything though – he never protested when Dean was like this. It was safer for everyone involved as far as Sam was concerned.

As soon as they reached the Impala, Dean pushed Sam against the passenger door. His body pressed tightly behind Sam, letting the younger man feel the thick, hard outline of his cock through his jeans. He latched on to Sam's pulse point as he fidgeted with the keys to get the door open. A low growl escaped him when Sam suppressed a moan, Dean nipping at licking Sam's skin more vigorously. 

After a few more minutes, Dean pulled back and pulled the keys from the lock. “Get in,” Dean ordered before he moved to the driver's side and climbed behind the wheel. When Sam's door closed, Dean fired up the engine and peeled out of the lot. The more distance he put between Sam and that waitress, the better he was going to feel. 

Sam knew what Dean had been doing. He'd been staking his claim. It was something Dean did a lot lately. Press his body close to him, run his tongue and teeth over the small parts of Sam that were exposed through his jacket and shirts. It was almost like Dean was trying to make sure people could smell him on Sam. And yes, Sam was well aware of how damn creepy it was. But there wasn't anything he could do about it. 

Every day, it seemed like Dean was getting more and more possessive of him. And Dean wanted Sam to be aware of it, too. After all, it wasn't like he hid the fact that he wanted Sam all to himself. More times than Sam could count, he'd had to talk Dean out of hurting someone. There was this one time in Tennessee when Sam thought Dean was going to shove him against the car and take him while a bunch of hicks watched. Of course, Dean hadn't, which Sam was grateful for.

But Sam wasn't sure how much longer he was going to be able to hold Dean off. Sure, Dean had told Sam when he took him from Stanford that he wasn't going to push him into anything, but Sam didn't necessarily believe him. He'd pushed Sam into leaving. And he constantly had Sam backed into a corner when they were out in public. One wrong move, and Sam was sure that someone's blood was going to be on his hands.

A shiver skittered down his spine when Dean pulled into the parking lot of a motel. Sometimes, Sam wished that they would just keep driving. Even if it would result in his body aching from being cramped for so many hours in a car, it was safe. It was familiar – something Sam knew. Dean would usually keep his hands to himself in the car. God forbid he do anything that might put his baby in jeopardy. 

When they were in a motel room though, the gloves came off. Sam never knew what to expect. If Dean was in a good mood, he'd leave Sam alone to shower and get ready for bed. Those nights, Sam actually managed to relax and get a few hours of much needed rest. But if Dean was in a bad mood, things were completely up in the air.

Usually, if Dean had been pissed off by someone, he would insist that Sam just go to bed without a shower – _he could do that in the morning_ , Dean would always say. Once Sam was in bed, Dean would strip down to his boxers and crawl in with him. That wasn't unusual. Since that first night they'd gotten a room after leaving Stanford, Dean had slept in the same bed as Sam. But if he was mad, Dean would wrap his arm around Sam's waist, and he'd pull him close against his body so he could feel every hard line of his brother against his back. 

Dean's hand would slide over every inch of Sam that he could reach, making Sam bite back his whimpers. Thankfully, Dean would never let his hand slide lower than the hem of Sam's T-shirt. He was grateful for that, at least. After Dean was done _feeling_ Sam, he'd usually grasp Sam's hand and force their fingers to lace before he settled down and fell asleep. Sam usually quietly cried himself to sleep those nights.

Tonight though, Sam wasn't sure what was going to happen. Dean had seemed pissed when they left the diner, but the car ride he hadn't been fuming like at the diner. At least Sam didn't think so. Honestly, he hadn't been paying too much attention to Dean. He'd been too wrapped up in his own thoughts. Damn, he wished he would have been paying closer attention to Dean.

He jumped slightly when Dean's door slammed, though Sam knew better than to get out of the car. Dean always went in to get their rooms alone. Sam was to stay in the car until Dean came back out and told him which room they were in. Dean didn't like it when the skeevy motel managers leered at Sam. Quite honestly, Sam didn't either.

After a few minutes, Dean was walking back to the Impala, juggling the keys in his palm. “C'mon Sammy,” Dean instructed as he opened the back door, grabbing his duffel. Sam followed suit, tossing the duffel over his shoulder as he walked behind his brother toward their room. Once inside, Dean closed the door behind Sam, throwing the lock into place. Tossing his duffel on the floor, Dean discarded his jacket, eyes on his little brother. 

It was too quiet. Sam didn't know how to react. Dean hadn't spoken to him since they got in this room, and Sam could feel the sweat dripping down his lower back. He was scared. Slowly, he allowed his duffel to fall off his shoulder, landing in a heap beside his brother's. For some reason, Sam felt like he'd done something wrong. “Dean,” he started, biting into his bottom lip when the older Winchester cut him off.

“Why don't you go grab a shower?” Dean suggested, eyes locked on Sam's straight white teeth where he had his lip trapped. Dean wanted his teeth to be trapping that lip. Just the thought of it had Dean's cock stirring in the confines of his jeans. He was horny. And his brother wasn't doing anything to help him. It was really starting to get irritating.

The fact that Dean was telling him to take a shower had Sam relaxing marginally. Showers were always a sign that Dean was going to leave him alone to sleep. Maybe their talk at the diner had been enough to make Dean understand that Sam wasn't going to try to go anywhere. At least not until he was one hundred percent sure that no one would be in danger if he did. “Okay,” Sam smiled, moving to the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

Once he was in the bathroom, Sam felt his body begin to relax. He quickly turned on the water, letting it heat up to the temperature he liked it as he stripped out of his clothing. Sam climbed under the warm spray as soon as he was naked, his fingers sliding through his floppy chestnut locks as he allowed the water to cascade over his body. It felt good to just relax – he didn't have to be on edge. He didn't have to think about anything other than running the soap over his body and allowing his muscles to unwind. It was amazing.

In the shower, Sam was enjoying his time alone under the hot spray so much that he didn't realize the bathroom door had opened. He was completely oblivious to the shower curtain opening as he stood under the water, palms pressed flat against the wall and his head hanging low between his arms. It wasn't until he felt a large, calloused hand running down his spine that Sam realized he was no longer alone.

Fear slammed into him like a freight truck, causing his breath to pick up and his chest to rise and fall with each exhalation. “D-Dean,” Sam breathed, trying to press himself so close to the wall that he'd disappear. “What are you—” His question was cut off as he felt his eyes dragging over Dean's frame, momentarily knocking the wind out of him. He'd seen Dean naked before, sure, but never like this.

This wasn't supposed to be happening. Dean never bothered him while he was in the shower. If Dean told him to take a shower, that meant it had been a good night. It meant that Sam was going to be able to sleep. This wasn't supposed to happen. Dean wasn't supposed to be in here. And he sure as hell wasn't supposed to be looking at Sam like he was a steak, and Dean was a starving man.

With Sam pressed into the wall, it was easy for Dean to close the gap between the two of them. His hand pressed against the wall on either side of Sam's head, locking Sam there. Dean didn't even try to hide it as he allowed his eyes to rake over Sam's body. He wanted to lick those droplets of water off of his little brother's chest and abs. But he wouldn't. “Shh Sammy,” Dean whispered, arms bending as he pressed his face into the crook of Sam's neck. “I thought we'd try something different tonight.”

Sam's heart slammed against his chest so hard that he was afraid it was going to beat right out of him. “Dean...please?” Sam whimpered, shaking his head as his eyes slipped closed. He was so scared that he was sure Dean could feel him shaking where their chests were touching. Dean was doing a really good job of keeping their lower halves apart, which Sam was thankful for. “Please...Dean...I don't want to.”

Hearing the begging tone in Sam's voice kind of turned Dean on. What could he say? He was a little bit freaky – Dean knew that. Hell, he was in love with his little brother for Christ's sake. Of course he was a freak. Unable to hide the smirk that came to his lips when Sam spoke, Dean pulled back to lock eyes with his brother. “Sammy, you don't even know what I wanna try,” Dean reminded. “How do you know you don't want to?”

“Please?” Sam whimpered once more, already convinced that whatever Dean wanted, he did _not_ want. His eyes were shining with unshed tears when Dean locked eyes with him, the younger man barely holding them back. “You-You said you wouldn't make me,” Sam reminded, hoping that would deter Dean from whatever he had planned. “You promised, Dean.”

Shaking his head, Dean once again took the time to admire Sam's naked body. “I didn't _promise_ anything, Sammy,” Dean reminded. He remembered the words like they'd been uttered yesterday. Not once had he made a promise that he wouldn't touch Sam in _any_ way he wanted to. But that's not what this little visit was about. 

Again, he pressed his face into the crook of Sam's neck, pressing his body closer to the younger man's. A low growl escaped him when Sam jerked away from him. He _hated_ it when Sam did that. Roughly, Dean's hand moved to Sam's hair, gripping the strands tightly as he forced his brother's head to the side. “Don't pull away from me,” Dean warned. “I am going to fuck you, Sammy. Maybe not today. Or tomorrow. But eventually, you'll beg me for it.” Pulling back, Dean glared at his brother. “You better pray I'm in a better mood when that day comes.”

Not for the first time since he'd left Stanford, Sam hated his life. When he'd been younger, Sam hadn't thought his life could get any worse than traveling around the globe in the Impala with their father and hunting things. Sam had clearly been wrong – this was worse. “Why are you here then?” Sam asked, belatedly realizing just how much venom he'd put behind the words. Damn, he always tried to hide how angry he was from Dean.

A small smile came to Dean's lips when Sam got all moody with him. It was cute. “I just needed a shower, Sammy,” Dean answered, eyes flashing with delight at Sam's annoyed expression. “You were taking too long.” Moving so that he was under the warm spray now, Dean continued, “If I'd have waited for you to get out, I wouldn't have any warm water. And then I saw you against the wall there and I couldn't help myself. I just wanted to touch – sue me.”

Honestly, as far as Dean was concerned, his brother should take this as a compliment. The fact that Dean wasn't able to keep his hands off him was a good thing. It meant that Sam turned Dean on, and he really didn't have to do anything in order to achieve that. Sam should be beaming at him right now – not giving him that signature bitch face he always had on.

When Sam muttered that he was finished and all but ran out of the shower, Dean rolled his eyes. If he hadn't been going to get into the bed with Sam as soon as he was done here, he may have followed the younger man out of the bathroom. Instead, Dean decided to just enjoy his shower. He was sure that it would have been much more enjoyable if Sam had stayed, but Dean wasn't going to push. Not yet, at least. They'd both had a stressful day – Dean didn't need to add to it by being too greedy.

As soon as he was finished, Dean turned off the water and dried off quickly. For Sam's benefit, Dean pulled on a pair of boxers, though he hated it. But he didn't want to scare Sam and make him think he was trying to get something he wasn't. Right now, he was just content getting some sleep. After all, he wasn't planning on staying here long. 

Sighing, Dean climbed under the covers, immediately pressing his body against Sam's. His arm wrapped around Sam's middle, pulling the younger man impossibly closer. He felt Sam's body tense initially the way it always did before he managed to relax. Tonight, Dean pressed his lips to Sam's neck, nose nuzzling into the wet strands of Sam's floppy locks. “G'night, Sammy,” Dean mumbled, smiling softly when he heard Sam tell him goodnight as well.


	5. Chapter Five

John Winchester sighed as he jumped out of the monster truck he'd gotten once he gave Dean the Impala. He was finally at Stanford. Sure, a few weeks had passed, but there had been some business he'd needed to attend to. Bobby had been calling him for weeks, and John still hadn't returned his call. He didn't want to listen to the older hunter scold him for not keeping on task. Yes, this was his son they were talking about, but he'd gotten a tip about the demon that killed Mary, and John had to go.

Of course, the tip had been nothing more than some low level demon that a few high school kids had summoned, but three adolescents were still alive because of him. _And his son may be in trouble because of him._ John pushed those thoughts from his mind, though. The last thing he needed was negative energy clogging his mind when he was trying to work. He needed to be one hundred percent focused.

As he walked up the steps to the apartment building his son had been renting, John couldn't help but feel scared. The last time he'd seen Sam, they'd been screaming back and forth at each other. It wasn't unusual for them to fight, but John had told Sam not to come back if he'd walked out that door. And Sam had walked out that door without a second thought. But even if Sam just slammed the door in his face, John would have been happy. After all, that meant Sam was safe.

When he knocked on the door, there was no answer, leaving a heavy pit to settle in his stomach. Again, John knocked – still no answer. Third time was the charm. His eyes grew wide when a pretty, young blonde woman answered the door. “Can I help you?” she asked, staring at John with uncertainty. John had to think on his feet. At least that was something he was good at.

Pulling out his badge, John flashed it at her. “My name is Agent Wilson,” John easily lied. “I'm looking for a young man by the name of Sam Winchester. This was his last known address. Does he live here?” At the mention of Sam, John couldn't help but see the way the young girl's face fell. And again, that pit grew heavier in John's gut.

“Um...y-yeah,” the younger woman replied with a sad nod. “He does live here. But he hasn't been here in a few weeks.” Swallowing back the tears that wanted to flow from her, Jessica opened the door a bit wider, a silent offer for John to enter the apartment if he wanted to. “Is there something I can help you with? Is-Is Sam in some sort of trouble?”

Without thinking too much about it, John entered the room, taking in the scene around him. This had once been a happy little home for two people – he remembered what that looked like. But now, it was a shell. “No, he's not in any trouble,” John assured her with a smile. “What's your name?”

Slowly, Jessica moved to the bed, taking a seat on the edge of it. “Jessica Moore,” she answered, grabbing one of Sam's books and pressing it to her chest. This was all she had left of her boyfriend – just his school supplies. Everything else had been packed up hastily and taken. Vanished right along with the love of her life. “I'm Sam's girlfriend. Or...I was. Now, I don't know.”

Girlfriend? It seemed like Sam had made a nice little life for himself. She was pretty. John was proud of his son. “When is the last time you saw him, Miss Moore?” John asked, careful not to break character. He was sure that Jessica had no idea who he was, which was both a blessing and a curse. It meant that Sam didn't really talk about him much. Not that John was really surprised. Sam had been determined to make a new life for himself. It was hard to do that when you were still holding on to your old life.

A few moments passed while Jessica tried to recall the events of the last few weeks. Honestly, she wasn't even sure what day it was today. “Um...November 2,” she answered finally. “I went to a party with a bunch of girls and Sam stayed behind to study. When I got back, he was gone. I thought that he'd just gone out to get some coffee or something, but when I woke up the next day, he still wasn't home. That's when I started to get worried. I noticed that all of his stuff was gone. So, I called him but he didn't answer.”

All of this was bringing up a lot of memories Jessica really didn't want to dredge through again. “I went to the police, but they didn't really help. They came in here and looked at the room. There was no forced entry, and the neighbors hadn't heard a struggle, or anything. Once they realized that all of Sam's stuff had been packed up, they told me that it wasn't unusual for college kids to just disappear when things got too hard. But that's not Sam. He wouldn't have just left. He had an interview on Monday that was going to determine whether or not he was getting his scholarship. He was so excited. And he was prepared. Sam wouldn't have just thrown that all away!”

If there was one thing John Winchester knew for sure, it was that his son was no quitter. There was no way Sam just left here. At least not without being coerced. But he couldn't let his girlfriend know that. He needed to call Bobby back – it was time to quit stalling. Throwing an apologetic smile on his face, John tried to offer Jessica some comfort. “Here's my card,” he smiled, handing her his fake business ID. “If there's anything you can remember, or if something comes up, please don't hesitate to call me.”

With one last, hopefully reassuring smile, shot in Jessica's direction, John excused himself. Once he was back in his truck, he took a moment to go over all of the mental notes he'd taken in his head. Sam had been doing really well here. But out of nowhere, he just disappeared? There was no sign of forced entry, which meant Sam knew whoever took him. _If_ he'd been taken. 

The theory still was that Dean was the one murdering these young men who looked like Sam. If Dean had come to Sam's room that night, Sam would have let him inside without question, Those kids had always been close. But would Sam have left with Dean? Maybe Dean had lied to him? Made him think he needed him on one last hunt, or something? John wasn't sure. All he knew was that Sam was missing, and he needed to find him.

Gathering all of his nerves, John finally returned Bobby's call. “You went on a hunt for the demon when your son might be in danger?!” Bobby answered the call, not even bothering to say hello. “What were you thinking, Winchester?! Don't you care that yer boy might be the next target?!”

“Sam's gone,” John snapped, hoping to get Bobby focused on something other than his scolding. “I just left his apartment. His girlfriend said she hasn't seen him since November 2.” And wasn't that ironic. The very date their mother had been ripped from their lives. Now Sam was God only knew where, and John wasn't quite sure there was a God if this is what his life had come to. “There was no sign of forced entry. All of Sam's bags had been packed, and he's just gone.”

There was a long pause on the other line as Bobby tried to rein in his emotions. “You think Dean got to him?” Bobby asked. John's silence on the other end of the line was enough of an answer for him. And dammit, if John hadn't wasted time running off on that wild goose chase for the yellow-eyed demon, maybe he'd have gotten there in time. “Where would Dean take him?”

He listened to John brood on the other line for a while, trying to make his brain work out any areas he knew of that the Winchesters might frequent. There was nothing. After all, it wasn't like Sam and Dean had a home. “Listen, I'll put out some feelers,” Bobby offered. He had a lot of ties to the hunter community, and he knew that if he put the word out, someone would notify him when they found Dean. “In the meantime, you get yer ass back down here and wait for any news. We need to be ready to move when we get a lead. You know yer boy isn't stupid enough to stay in one place too long when he's on the run.”

When he ended the call, Bobby got to work right away putting out the word. If Dean Winchester so much as took a shit in the same bar one of Bobby's contacts was in, Bobby would hear about it. Sighing, he shoved the files he'd been reading about the murdered boys into the middle of the table. He tried not to think about the sexual assault they'd all endured as he poured himself another glass of whiskey.

**~~**

Sam tried to press himself as close as he possibly could into the wall behind his back. Dean was across the bar hustling pool, and Sam couldn't help but notice the large man in the corner staring at him. Sam didn't like that look he was giving him. He knew it was only going to get the man hurt. So, he did his best to ignore it, hoping that the man would take the hint that he wasn't interested. And he wasn't. Not at all.

Sighing, Sam glanced at the bathroom just a few feet behind him. He'd had to urinate for the last forty five minutes. When they'd gotten here, Sam thought this was going to be a quick trip. In and out. They weren't _that_ hard up for cash yet. But Dean just kept playing game after game. Finally, his brother's eyes locked on him, giving Sam the opportunity he needed. Biting into his bottom lip, Sam bobbed his head in the direction of the bathroom, releasing the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when Dean merely nodded.

Now that he was in the bathroom, Sam felt like he could breathe a little easier. No one was in here with him, and he didn't have to worry about anything other than hitting the urinal. And his aim was really good, if he did say so himself. 

As Sam moved to wash his hands, the door swung open to reveal the man who had been staring at him all night. Quickly, Sam looked down at the sink, making sure not to make eye contact with the new arrival. But that didn't seem to deter the man. Instead of moving to the stalls, he moved toward Sam, hands gripping Sam's hips as he jerked him back against his body.

The man pressed his face into Sam's neck much like Dean usually did, and Sam felt all of the blood drain from him. He began to struggle as he heard the man speaking. “I saw you watching me out there,” the man assured him, pressing his hard dick against Sam's ass. “Thought maybe I'd come in here and we could have some fun.”

“No,” Sam muttered, shaking his head as he tried to struggle. He should have been able to get out of this. All of the training their father had put them through – Sam should have been able to shake this guy without issue. But he felt like he couldn't breathe, and there was no way he could fight. “Please, stop?” Sam begged, trying to claw and shove at the man's hands. “You don't understand. Please...let me go. He doesn't like it when other people touch me.”

Just as Sam thought he had the upper hand, the man shoved him into the sink, forcing Sam's breath out of him in a _whoosh_. “Don't worry baby,” the man cooed in Sam's ear. “We'll be quick. He won't even know you're gone.”

But he was wrong. Sam knew Dean would know. Dean _always_ knew. Dean was hyper aware of Sam's every move. There was no way Dean wasn't going to come looking for him when he didn't walk out of this bathroom. “Stop it,” Sam tried again when he could talk. “You're going to get me in trouble! Get off me!”

Not three seconds after Sam screamed at the man, his weight was gone. Quickly, Sam turned, fingers curling around the sinks that he'd just been bent over. Sam felt like he couldn't breathe again all too soon as he watched Dean's fist flying into the man's face over and over again. “You do that to my brother?” Dean was screaming at the man, ignoring his pleas to stop as Dean continued to hit him. “I'll fucking kill you!”

And Dean would. Sam knew Dean would. But this man was innocent. A pervert, sure, but he hadn't done anything to deserve death. Quickly, Sam dropped to his knees, grabbing Dean's elbow when he tried to land another blow. “Dean, stop, please!” Sam begged, eyes locked on Dean's when the older man glared at him. “You're _killing_ him! Please stop!”

Anger was clear on Dean's face as he stared at Sam. It was clear that Dean didn't care he was killing this man – there was no emotion behind those beautiful green eyes that Sam always found comfort in when he was younger. Shrugging off Sam's hand, Dean pushed himself to his feet. He kicked the bastard who had been running his hands all over his brother in the abdomen for good measure before he walked out of the bathroom. He didn't have to tell Sam to follow him – the younger man would do it without being ordered to, Dean was sure.

Dean was fuming. Sam could see it in the hard line of his back and the way his hands were balled into fists at his sides. Other people wouldn't notice. But Sam wasn't other people. He watched silently as Dean closed out their tab with the pretty bartender, not even taking a second to return her playful flirting. Sam couldn't help but wonder what kind of hellish torture Dean had planned for him when they were back at the motel room. 

All too soon, Dean was pulling into the parking lot, the whole car rocking when Dean slammed his door shut. And Dean _never_ did anything to hurt his baby – Sam knew this was bad. “Dean,” he started as he closed the door behind him. He needed to explain the situation. He needed Dean to not be so angry with him. 

“Why didn't you stop him, Sam?!” Dean spat as hard, emerald eyes locked on his brother. “You were bigger than he was. You've been _trained_ to fight! You could have easily taught that fucker a lesson. Why didn't you?” His brother was shaking as Dean moved closer, eyes raking over Sam's body. “Is it because you wanted him, Sammy? Did you want what he was offering you?”

His brain was working a mile a minute. Sam didn't know how to answer Dean's question. He was trained. And he should have been able to take that guy, but he'd been scared. It was almost like he'd been having a panic attack. And only when Dean came into the room did Sam feel like he could breathe again. At least for a moment, anyway. “No!” Sam quickly answered when Dean asked him if he wanted that man. “No, Dean, I didn't! I swear!”

There was no doubt in his mind that Sam didn't want what he was offering up, but Dean was mad. He was _pissed_. And he needed to know why Sam hadn't fought back. “Then what, Sam?!” Dean demanded, fists tangling in his brother's flannel as he hauled the larger man impossibly closer. Dean wanted a fight. He needed something to distract him. Usually, he'd just go out and get some tail, or start a bar fight, but tonight, he couldn't. Tonight, he had to take care of his brother. This kind of behavior couldn't be allowed! And they'd been doing so well, dammit!

For a second, Sam thought Dean was going to hit him. His brother had never been violent with him before – not since he'd taken him from Stanford, anyway – but Sam thought for sure Dean was going to throw a punch. “I-I couldn't!” Sam finally yelled, fingers moving to wrap around his brother's wrists. “I couldn't fight back. I felt like...I couldn't breathe. I was...scared. He was touching me, and I was scared. Because I knew you were going to come looking for me, and I knew that guy was going to be in trouble! And I was scared, Dean!”

Where Sam touched him, Dean felt his body ignite. He wanted him. Dean had been patient. He'd been waiting for Sam to make a move, and he'd been good. He'd only slipped up once when he trapped Sam in the shower. But Dean wanted him. “Scared of what, Sam?” Dean demanded. “Scared that I was going to hurt him? Scared that precious little bastard wasn't going to make it out of that room?!” Dean had wanted to kill him. But he wanted to get Sam the hell out of there more.

“No!” Sam yelled again, eyes squeezed closed as he shook his head almost violently back and forth. He felt Dean shoving him back into the wall as he demanded to know what he'd been scared of if not that. And Sam didn't want to admit it – he'd never wanted to admit it – but Dean wasn't going to let up. “I was scared of what you were going to do to me when you found out!”

He felt like he was going to cry, but Sam did his best to hold it back. “I didn't want it, Dean! I told the guy to leave me alone! I told him he was going to get me in trouble, but he wouldn't listen!” Shaking his head, Sam choked on a laugh. “And I know you, Dean! I know how you get when you're mad! But it wasn't my fault! I saw him looking at me all night and I ignored him! I kept my eyes on _you_! But you weren't even paying attention to me! You were too busy flirting with the waitresses and the bartender to see that I wanted to go!”

A wide smile came to Dean's lips when Sam spoke. Slowly, Dean released his brother, not missing the way Sam's eyes ticked up to meet his before they fell back down. Sam's hands were practically twitching where they'd lost contact with Dean. “You jealous, Sammy?” Dean asked, feeling a bit triumphant. The blush that steeled over the younger man's features let Dean know that he was right. “You are,” Dean answered for him, smile widening. 

Leaning in, Dean pressed his hands against the wall on either side of Sam's head, caging the younger man in his spot. “I had my eyes on you the whole time,” Dean assured the younger man. “I knew exactly what you were doing, and when you were doing it. I could see you staring at the door like you were seconds away from running through it. But we needed the cash, Sammy. Motels cost money. And we gotta get more cards here soon.”

Sam was far from jealous. He hadn't cared that Dean was looking at those other people. He had cared however that Dean was blocking the door. Sure, Sam was free to leave any time he wanted – it wasn't like Dean had him tied up somewhere. But the threat of hurting people had Sam staying. And there were so many people in that bar – Sam may as well have been tied to the chair.

When Dean's lips brushed against his jaw, Sam's breath caught in his throat. Dean was reading this all wrong. Sam didn't want this. “Dean,” Sam whispered, trying to press himself further into the wall. Maybe if he wished hard enough, he'd just disappear. His hands moved to press against Dean's chest, gently pushing his brother away. “You said you wouldn't make me.”

Although Sam had basically admitted that he was jealous, he was still pushing Dean away. Dean understood that Sam was scared, but he wasn't going to hurt him. He'd never hurt Sam. Maybe the younger man just needed some reassurance before he let Dean go all of the way. He could handle that. “M'not making you do anything,” Dean assured his brother. His hands moved to grip Sam's wrists once more, pulling his little brother's hands away from his chest as he pressed their bodies closer. Dean's face was in the crook of Sam's neck as soon as Sam wasn't shoving him away. 

A sharp gasp escaped Sam when Dean bit his neck hard enough to bruise. “Dean!” Sam complained, recoiling away from the older man. But Dean gripped his biceps, holding Sam in place. “What are you doing?” Sam demanded, eyes closing when he felt Dean's hot, wet tongue sliding over what he was sure was going to be nice welt tomorrow.

“I wanna show you something,” Dean whispered against the shell of Sam's ear. Pulling back, Dean kept his eyes locked on Sam as he peeled off his leather jacket and draped it over one of the chairs. “Get on the bed. And take off your clothes.” He could see that Sam was about to protest, but Dean wasn't going to let him. “Do it, Sam,” he ordered, his voice stern. “I wanna play.”


	6. Chapter Six

_I wanna play_. Sam didn't like the sound of that. “Dean, I don't want to,” Sam protested, shaking his head. He wanted to keep his clothes on. He just wanted to go to bed. “Dean, please? I'm tired. Can't we just...do this tomorrow?” He could feel his body shaking at the thought of Dean doing anything to him while he was unclothed. Sam wasn't ready.

“Sammy, quit arguing with me,” Dean ordered. His hand gripped his shirt between his shoulder blades, pulling the fabric from his body. “Get your clothes off. I'm not gonna tell you again.” He toed off his boots as he watched his little brother reluctantly start stripping out of his clothing. Sam was scared – Dean could see that. But he knew his brother would love it once he just stopped fighting Dean. They needed this – especially after today.

When Sam was stripped down to his boxers and his T-shirt, he stopped removing clothes. He couldn't make his body work the way it usually did. For some reason, his arms weren't listening when he told them to move. He could hear Dean telling him to keep going, but Sam just couldn't comply. Finally, Sam bit into his bottom lip, shaking his head. “I-I can't, Dean,” he explained, feeling his whole body shaking once more. “Don't-Don't make me do this. Please?”

It was becoming increasingly annoying that Sam wouldn't just do what he was told. Honestly, if he trusted Dean, then he wouldn't have to worry about this! Sam would know that Dean was just trying to make him feel good, dammit! Sighing, Dean closed the gap between the two of them, intent on helping Sam with his little dilemma. His hands reached for Sam's T-shirt, shushing the younger man when Sam whimpered.

Once he had Sam's shirt off, he pressed his palm against the newly exposed skin, shoving Sam onto the mattress. His hands immediately moved to the waistband of Sam's boxers once he was on the bed, Dean quickly tugging the last bit of fabric hiding Sam's body from his prying eyes down Sam's hips and tossing them onto the floor with the rest of their clothes. 

A small sigh escaped Dean once he had Sam completely naked, the older Winchester standing at his full height to admire the form before him. Sam was visibly shaking, but Dean wasn't paying much attention to it. He'd be shaking for a completely different reason here in a few minutes. Dean had often dreamed about what Sam would look like laid out on display for him like this. The real thing was so much better than his dreams.

After a few more minutes of just admiring, Dean tucked his thumbs into the waistband of his own boxers, tugging down the fabric and kicking it off. He barely held back a moan when his hard cock sprung free. Not missing the way Sam's eyes immediately dropped to his nether regions, Dean licked his lips, smiling at the younger man. “I know,” he teased, slowly climbing onto the bed with his brother.

Shivers continued to run up Sam's spine as Dean's hands moved all over his now bare skin. He was scared – he had no idea what Dean was planning, and he was scared. “Dean,” Sam whimpered as his brother's hand carded through his hair. It wasn't unusual for Dean to play with his hair. Not at all. Actually, Sam was sure that it was one of Dean's favorite past times. And it was fine. Any other day, it was actually kind of nice. But right now, with them both naked in the bed, Sam didn't feel fine at all. “Please? What are you doing?”

Again with the questions. His brother couldn't just enjoy this. “I told you,” Dean whispered, lips skimming over Sam's neck and shoulder before sliding back up, over his jaw and to the shell of his ear. “I wanna play.” He felt his brother tense up even further under him, causing a small frown to come to Dean's lips. 

Slowly, Dean pulled back, fingers scratching over his brother's scalp soothingly. “Don't worry Sammy,” Dean soothed, his other hand moving to cup his little brother's cheek. “I'm not gonna do anything you won't like.” Dean quickly shushed Sam when he started begging again – they could get more into that later. Right now, he just wanted to get off. 

Without too much effort, Dean managed to get Sam flat on his back once more. His hands moved to Sam's chest, fingers kneading into the hard muscle there. Sam was still so tense. Dean hoped that he could get him to relax a little bit and enjoy himself. “Sammy,” Dean mumbled as he allowed his hands to roam over the younger man's tanned flesh. When his hand moved lower down Sam's torso, over his hip to cup his flaccid cock, Dean moaned as he bit softly into his brother's earlobe. 

Sam jumped when his brother's hand came into contact with his privates. Before he knew what was happening, Sam moved his hand to grab Dean's wrist. “Don't,” he whimpered, shaking his head as much as he could with Dean latched onto his ear. 

Instead of listening to Sam, Dean merely shrugged the younger man's hand off of him. “No, you don't,” he argued, fingers sliding up to Sam's hair once more and holding him tightly. “Just relax,” he tried to coax, hand returning to his brother's member. “Let yourself feel it. I'll make you feel so good if you just let me, Sammy.” Pulling back, Dean locked eyes with his brother, a small frown creasing his brows. “You want to feel good, don't you Sammy?”

 _Not like this_. Sam thought the words immediately, but knew he couldn't voice them. Dean was already in a mood tonight, and Sam would be an idiot to make it worse. So, he was just going to let Dean play his little game for a while. If his brother tried to take it too far, Sam would stop him. But touching was okay. It was nothing. He'd let one of his drunken friends rub one off on his leg at a frat party a few years back – this was just like that. He could do this. He was fine. 

“Y-Yeah,” Sam whispered finally, nodding. “Yeah, Dean, I wanna feel good.” Even as he said the words, Sam felt himself tensing once more. But Dean didn't seem to realize it, instead moving to suck on Sam's neck and shoulder once more. The hand in his hair was nice at least. Sam let himself get lost in it for a minute. 

Over the last few weeks, Sam had taken pleasure in little affectionate touches like this from Dean. After all, it was better than when Dean ignored him. And when Dean was in a bad mood, he was really good at ignoring Sam. Half of the time, he wouldn't even hold him while they slept. Dean would be in the same bed of course, but he'd turn his back to him and ignore him. Sam hated it when Dean acted like he wasn't even there.

So, he took the affection when he could. Dean wasn't one to dish it out often. Anyone who knew the older Winchester knew that he wasn't about sharing his feelings. _Chick flick moments_ – that's how Dean would refer to it. But Sam liked it. He wanted chick flick moments. He used that to gauge when Dean was in a good mood. And he much preferred his brother in a good mood.

Under his touches, it seemed like his brother had finally relaxed. Dean skimmed his lips across Sam's shoulder back to his neck, leaving little kitten nips and licks along the way. Sam seemed to like it if the way his cock was hardening in Dean's grasp was any indication. Dean could get on board with that. Of course, he wanted more – he wanted to be inside Sam. He wanted to feel his brother's heat wrapped around his cock like a tight blanket, but he wasn't going to push. Sam had already gone out of his comfort zone tonight – there was no need for Dean to push further than absolutely necessary. And yes, this was necessary. He needed this. And deep down, Sam did too – even if the younger man wasn't aware of it yet.

Much to Sam's surprise, his body was responding quite a bit to what his brother was doing to him. On some level, he was enjoying it. After all, it had been _weeks_ since anyone had touched him like this. And it wasn't like he could have done it for himself. Dean kept him on a real short leash. And Dean always told him that if he wasn't the cause of Sam's pleasure, then he didn't need any. Apparently it would make the experience so much better when they were both able to get off.

A low moan escaped Sam when his brother squeezed his sensitive flesh, the younger man biting into his bottom lip. He was so torn. On the one hand, this was Dean, and he didn't want him like this. But on the other hand, this was the best he'd felt in weeks. With Dean above him, rutting against him like a cat in heat. And Sam didn't even want to think about how wrong this was. 

Instead, Sam tried to shut off his brain and just focus on what Dean was making him feel. Because it felt good. _So fucking good_. Slowly, Sam's hands moved from fisting in the sheets to tentatively touch Dean. First, they rested on Dean's back, then slid into his hair before Sam finally settled on Dean's shoulders. Yeah, they were good there. 

When Sam's hands started roaming over him, Dean couldn't help but smile against his brother's throat. Dean picked up his pace, hand stripping over Sam's cock as he nibbled and sucked at Sam's skin, drawing delicious moans from the younger man. He loved it when Sam made those noises. He loved knowing that Sam was making those noises _because_ of him. Because of what he was doing to him. It made Dean very happy.

Pulling back, Dean gripped Sam's chin with the hand that had been in the younger man's hair. “Kiss me,” he demanded, squeezing Sam just right to pull those little moans from him. “Kiss me, Sammy. Need it. Need you. Please?”

It wasn't often that Dean came undone. Sam had only seen it that first night at Stanford that he could remember. So seeing Dean above him, all but begging to be kissed had something shifting inside Sam. He'd told Dean he didn't want this. That he didn't feel that way for him. But Dean hadn't believed him. And now, looking into those pleading, emerald green eyes, Sam wasn't sure he believed it himself. 

The grip on his chin tightened slightly, reminding Sam that he hadn't answered. Before he really fully understood the question, Sam nodded, need pooling low in his belly. Dean's lips were on him seconds later, strong, sure tongue demanding entrance to his brother's mouth. Again, Sam's hand found its way to Dean's hair, fingers curling around the short strands as he opened his mouth for Dean.

Only when he needed air did Dean pull back, hot breaths panting out against Sam's mouth. “You like this?” Dean breathed, eyes searching Sam's face for any signs of distress. Unlike when they'd first started, there were none. Sam's nod came a few seconds after Dean bit his neck again. “Do you want me to make you cum, baby?”

He was going to cum. Whether Dean wanted him to or not, Sam was going to do it. His brother's hand was still on his cock, stroking him so good, and Sam was going to fall right over the edge of that cliff. However, before he could reach ecstasy, Dean's hand was gone, leaving Sam bucking into nothing but air. “D-Dean,” Sam breathed, biting into his bottom lip as he stared into his brother's eyes. “Please?”

“Please what, Sam?” Dean asked, the hand that was on Sam's cock moving to pinch one of his brother's nipples. Again, he smiled at the moan that Sam tried to bite back. Damn, his brother was so responsive. “Do you want me to make you cum, Sammy? Tell me. Tell me you want it, and I'll do it.” He wanted to hear those words come out of Sam's pretty little mouth before he let Sam have what he wanted.

Dean was really going to make him say it. Of course he was. It was Dean Winchester, after all. “Yes,” Sam begged, trying not to say _exactly_ what Dean wanted and still get his way. Somehow that made him feel less dirty. But Dean wasn't having any of it. He even went as far as to pull back so Sam couldn't rut against his abdomen like he'd started doing in an attempt to get friction. “Dean!” Sam whined, biting into his bottom lip as he weighed his options. 

But he had no options. Dean was in control here. Dean was always in control. He barely suppressed his need to roll his eyes when Dean ordered him to say it again. “Please, Dean?” Sam breathed, fingers digging into his brother's shoulders. “Make me cum, Dean. Please...need it.”

Face lighting up with amusement, Dean quickly shoved Sam's legs apart as wide as they would go before settling himself into the new opening. He groaned softly as he rocked against his brother, his hand closing around both of their cocks and stroking. Dean set the perfect pace, and after just a few strokes, Sam's back arched off the bed as hot ropes of white shot from his cock. 

His hand didn't cease it's ministrations until they were both sated. Sam was a mess by the time Dean was finished, the younger man coated in both his own as well as Dean's release. As if he had no control over himself, Dean pressed his palm against Sam's abdomen, rubbing the evidence of their orgasms into his little brother's skin. 

After a few minutes, Sam finally started complaining. “Dean, stop it,” he muttered, jerking his hips a little in an attempt to get his brother off of him. “I need to shower. I'm a mess. Let me up.” There was no way he was sleeping like this. If he did, it was going to be nearly impossible to get himself clean in the morning. Besides, Sam hated being sticky. Dean knew that.

For a minute, Dean thought about not letting his brother up. He wanted to do it again, so there was no need for Sam to get cleaned right now. But he knew better than to press his luck. Sam didn't seem like he was a brooding mess, so Dean was counting this as a win. “Fine,” Dean groaned as he rolled off his brother and onto the floor. “Don't be long. M'tired.”

As Sam walked into the bathroom, Dean couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips as he stared at his brother's perfect, round ass. He was going to have that ass one day here soon. Of course, he knew they were a long way from there, but he could dream. Sam would give himself over to Dean eventually. And if Dean pushed him a little along the way, he wasn't going to mention it.

**~~**

They got a lead a lot faster than John was expecting once Bobby had people looking for Dean. Not that John was complaining. He just made a mental note that maybe he should utilize the older hunter more often. Well, after he found Sam, that was. Currently, they were in some no name town in Nebraska at one of the only bars in town.

It figured that Dean would be at a bar. His son had always liked the hard stuff. Sometimes, John had worried that with everything Dean dealt with on a daily basis that his son was going to turn into an alcoholic. He'd never worried that his son might turn into something much, much worse. 

Bobby flashed the witness Dean's photo twice, once to verify that Dean had been the man who was here, and then twice to make sure his story stuck. According to the witness, he'd followed a young man matching Sam's description into the bathroom and while he was in there, he'd been attacked by Dean. The poor man thought that he was pressing charges right now. “Thank you,” Bobby smiled at the young man, putting away the shot of Dean. “That'll be all. If we have any further questions, we'll be in touch.”

“He said it was Dean?” John asked as he met Bobby by the bar. “And he was sure?” When Bobby glared at him, John knew that he was asking too many questions. It wasn't that he thought the older hunter was inadequate. He knew that Bobby knew how to do this job. John just didn't want to believe that his son had fallen so far off the wagon. “Well, that happened less than six hours ago,” John mumbled, accepting the worst right now. “If they were here, they couldn't have gotten too far.”

Although he was on the job, John had ordered a stiff drink. He needed one. And it wasn't like he was driving. He'd allowed Bobby to use one of his old junkers to bring them out here. After all, no use putting a ton of miles on his truck if he didn't have to. Downing his drink, John pushed himself off his stool, collecting his jacket. “We should get moving.”

He didn't have to look behind him to know that Bobby was following him. Sam and Dean were like sons to the older hunter – there wasn't anything he wouldn't do to keep them safe. And John knew that Bobby was just tagging along to keep him in check – he didn't care about that. Usually, John would have made a stink about not needing a babysitter, but not this time. Because he knew that when it came time to do what needed to be done to his oldest, Bobby was going to be there to finish the job if John couldn't.


	7. Chapter Seven

Sam stared out the window as the Impala sped down the highway. He knew where Dean was taking them – he'd asked a while back, and Dean hadn't been shady about it. That was at least one good thing about this whole situation since he'd been taken from Stanford. Dean didn't lie to him anymore. Apparently Dean trusted him enough now to tell him the truth about everything. And wasn't that just ironic?

A hand on his thigh brought Sam back inside the car, his eyes locked on his brother's fingers. It had been three nights since Dean had dry humped him in a motel bed, and Sam wasn't looking to re-enact that scene any time soon. He knew Dean had other plans, but Sam wasn't interested. He'd just had a long night, and he was scared that Dean was upset – that's all that had been. It wasn't going to happen again.

“What're you doin' way over there, Sammy?” Dean asked, almost pouting at the younger man. “There's a big bench seat right here just beggin' you to scoot closer to me.” He didn't know why Sam was sitting so far away, but he didn't like it. As a matter of fact, Sam seemed pretty distant since that night in Nebraska, and Dean didn't like that either. “I wasn't asking Sammy,” Dean warned, fingers tightening on the younger man's leg. “Scoot over.”

Without another choice, Sam scooted into the center of the seat. His eyes slipped closed when Dean carded his fingers through Sam's hair, scratching at his scalp lovingly. And no, Sam _did not_ lean into his brother's touch! “Are we going to keep driving until we get there?” Sam asked, the car suddenly too quiet for his own thoughts. “Or-Or are you going to pull over and get us a room for the night?” Sam wished they'd just keep driving.

When Sam asked if they were going to pull over for the night, Dean couldn't help but smile. They had been on the road for a while now, and Dean was starting to ache. They'd only stopped to use the bathroom once, and they'd gotten fast food from a drive through window for lunch. “Yeah, we can stop Sammy,” Dean assured his little brother, ruffling his hair like he'd done when they were little. “It's late anyway. We still have about four hours of road left, so it's probably safer if we stop.”

That was the last thing Sam wanted to hear. However, he was smart enough not to argue. If Dean wanted to stop, then they were going to stop. After all, it wasn't like Dean was going to let Sam drive a few hundred miles. And Sam didn't want his brother falling asleep at the wheel, either. So yes, stopping was safer. Just not for Sam's sanity.

The rest of the drive was done pretty much in silence, Dean's fingers on Sam's scalp helping to lull the younger Winchester to sleep. Dean figured that he'd eat up a few hundred more miles before he found them a motel room for the evening. It was really quiet in the car after Sam fell asleep though, and Dean didn't like it. But he wanted to let Sam sleep so he wouldn't be tired later. Sam was more likely to cooperate later if he wasn't ready to pass out from exhaustion. 

As he drove, Dean's cell phone kept vibrating in his pocket, driving the older Winchester crazy. Angrily, Dean unraveled his hand from Sam's hair, smiling softly when the younger man snuffled and pressed his head further into Dean's shoulder. Glaring at the mobile device, Dean snorted out a humorless chuckle when he realized that Bobby Singer was trying to get a hold of him.

Bobby Singer – he hadn't heard that name in a while. But he wasn't about to answer that call. Any idiot knew that Bobby Singer was a friend of John Winchester. And John Winchester had to know by now that Sam was gone. That man was anal about keeping an eye on his kids – even after he basically tossed Sam out on his ass when he went to school.

But it was okay. Sam was safe now. He was back with Dean, and they were going to start their own life together. They didn't need John Winchester's approval. And they sure as hell didn't need the approval of anyone else. All they needed was each other. And Dean was going to make sure no one fucked that up for him. 

Angrily, Dean tossed the phone into the passenger seat on the other side of Sam. His hand returned to its position in Sam's hair, pulling the younger man closer against him. “Don't worry, Sammy,” Dean whispered to his sleeping brother. “I'm not gonna let them find us. No one's coming to take you away from me. You're mine, baby. Just how it should be.”

**~~**

“Voicemail again,” Bobby griped as he hung up the phone. He thought for sure that by using his phone to call Dean, the other man might answer. After all, there was no way for Dean to know that he was working with John. Hell, as far as Dean was concerned, the last time he'd spoken to John Winchester, Bobby had threatened to shoot him. Surely, Dean didn't think they were working together. Then again, Dean had always been a bright kid. Sure, most people thought Sam had the brains, but Dean was smart when he wanted to be. He could surprise a lot of people.

John couldn't help but roll his eyes at the news that Bobby had gotten Dean's voicemail. Dean probably knew that John would enlist the help of an old friend to find him. His son wasn't an idiot. Dean knew that John kept tabs on Sam. He knew that John would know Sam had been taken by now. The only question was, where was Dean taking him?

The fact of the matter was, John hadn't been one hundred percent honest with Bobby when he'd shown up on his doorstep. John hadn't had a theory that Dean was committing the murders of those young boys. He'd known it was true. He'd caught Dean in the act one night. Of course, that boy hadn't been added to the list of victims. John had saved him – but not before Dean had gotten away. 

It had always been clear that Dean had this unusual infatuation with his brother. Even when they were little, Dean had been possessive of the kid. Hell, there were more than a few times Dean had tried to keep Sam from John during training. But he'd just chalked that up to Dean being a good brother. There was nothing wrong with being protective of your family – that was a good trait to have.

But after Sam left, it had gotten out of hand. Dean would disappear for days at a time and not check in when he was supposed to. John had found out that Dean had been going to Stanford and basically stalking his brother. Of course, John had told Dean to knock it off – he thought that had been the end of it. Unfortunately, it had just been the beginning.

_The night John caught Dean in the act, he'd gone to his son's motel room to make sure he was alright since he'd missed check in again. When he got there, Dean hadn't been home. John had been able to pick the lock without any difficulty, so he just let himself into the room. He hadn't been prepared for what he'd found._

_Every inch of the room had been plastered with photos. Some of them were old – back from when Dean had been a boy. But some of them were new, too. Photos of Sam just hanging randomly everywhere, covering every inch of wallpaper. When John checked the closet, there had been a large poster of Sam's face, made out of other little photos of his youngest son._

_Upon further inspection, John realized that photos weren't the only things of Sam that Dean had been collecting. On the television, there was a video of Sam and Dean playing. It looked like they were in Sam's apartment from what John could tell. Sam and Dean were enjoying a beer together, just spending time like brother's would. However, the video shifted to another scene – a motel room. Dean walked into the room with a younger man in tote. Anyone who didn't know Sam would have thought the new kid had been him._

_After a few minutes, John had to turn off the tape because it was verging on pornographic as his son shoved the kid into the mattress. It made John feel sick just thinking about it. On the bed, there was a pair of white boxer briefs, which John moved to investigate. The letters_ S.W. _were on the tag, making John's stomach churn. His son had always written his initials on his boxers because he'd been paranoid that someone was going to steal his underwear from the laundromat. It had been kind of cute back in the day._

 _But now, they were here in Dean's room. On Dean's bed. And John didn't want to think about what that sticky substance was on the fabric. He_ couldn't _think about what that was. “God dammit, Dean,” he sighed, shaking his head. “What the hell are you doing?”_

That had been about three weeks before Sam had gone missing. John had been dealing with the victim, trying to get him to keep his damn mouth shut so the police weren't after his son, and he hadn't been able to watch Sam the way he should have. And then he'd gone off on that wild goose chase, and everything had been so fucked up since then. John was sure that he could get his son the help he needed. Dean would be fine after a while. And Sam could go back to school, and everything would be fine. But he had to find Dean first.

Sighing, John pressed his head back against the seat. “We'll try again later,” he suggested, allowing himself to hope that maybe Dean was just driving and didn't hear his phone go off. John knew how loud the kid kept his music. As they continued to drive, John thought about where his son might be headed. He had no idea what was running through the kid's head right now. He hadn't for a long time.

Bobby could never know. John was trying with everything he had in him to keep this whole debacle a secret from the older hunter. He wouldn't understand. No one would. Dean wasn't a bad kid. He was just sick. He just needed some help to get better. And John wasn't interested in allowing anyone else to tell him how to raise his kids. That was for damn sure.

He hadn't even realized Bobby had been talking to him until the older hunter punched him in the arm. “Ow,” he complained, frowning at Bobby. He listened this time when the hunter spoke, another sigh escaping his lips. “I don't know where Dean plans on heading,” John answered with a sad shake of his head. “It's not like they have major ties anywhere. We moved around when they were little. And Dean never showed an special interest in any of the towns we stayed in. Sam...he didn't either, really, I guess. I mean, he always wanted to stay in them all. He wanted to be in school.”

The fact of the matter was that they had no leads. Their last lead had been in Nebraska, and that had been days ago. Dean could have been traveling North, South, East, West – they just had no clue. And although it was a hard pill to swallow, they weren't going to know anything until they got another lead. Or until Dean answered his damn phone.

**~~**

Panted gasps and muffled moans filled the room as Dean rut against his brother beneath him. He really wished they could have been doing the real thing, but he knew that Sam wasn't ready. He'd known that the instant Sam had walked into this room and hesitated when Dean told him to lose the clothes. But Dean needed this – he needed _Sam_ – any way he could get him. And if that meant grinding naked against Sam like a couple of damn teenagers, then Dean would take it.

And Sam was being a lot more responsive tonight than he had been the last time. Maybe he was finally letting his guard down. Dean was really enjoying it. Roughly, Dean jerked Sam's head to the side with the grip he had on the younger man's hair, biting into his already bruised skin. He couldn't help it – Dean loved marking Sam up.

“Dean!” Sam cried out, his fingers digging into his brother's biceps harder where he was holding on. It was like he was going to fall over the edge and Dean was the only thing grounding him. He hadn't wanted this. Dean hadn't given him a choice. He'd practically ordered Sam to strip as soon as they were in the room. Hell, he hadn't even stopped anywhere for food yet! Apparently, Dean was planning on having Sam for dinner tonight.

Another moan escaped through Sam's gritted teeth when his brother's tongue soothed over the bite mark. And dammit, Sam's neck was a weak spot for him because he was bucking into his brother's body above him. “Dean,” he breathed again, his jaw nudging at the side of his brother's head to get his attention. “Dean, please?”

Although he didn't want to stop his assault on his brother's neck, Dean wasn't one to ignore Sam when he called for him. “What's wrong, baby?” Dean asked, lips brushing over Sam's cheek as he waited for the younger man to answer.

Slowly, Sam shook his head. “N-Nothing,” he whispered. “Just...want you to stop messin' with my neck.” He could see the aggravation pass over Dean's face when Sam got bossy, but he couldn't help it. Still, he could have worded that a little better, he supposed. “P-Please, Dean?” Sam whimpered when his brother tightened his grip on his hair. “Just...it hurts. You've got me all bruised up. Just...kiss me, Dean. Please?”

Well, how was Dean supposed to resist when his brother was begging him so pretty. Without hesitation, Dean crushed their lips together, tongue immediately sliding past Sam's lips and teeth to tangle with his own. His hand worked its way into Sam's hair once more, fingers carding through the soft strands. A small moan escaped Sam when Dean nipped at his tongue, the sound swallowed up in their kiss. 

Only when they were panting for breaths did Dean break the kiss. “Why do you always bite me?” Sam muttered, catching his lower lip between his teeth to keep from moaning loudly when Dean rocked his hips just right against Sam's sensitive skin. 

Cocky smile plastered on his face, Dean answered, “Because you enjoy it.” The way Sam's cheeks heated at the suggestion was enough to let Dean know he was right. “Like it when I leave marks on, Sammy?” Dean whispered, his hands sliding down Sam's torso slowly, digging into the muscles just a little bit on his way down. “Want me to do it all of the time. So people know to leave you the hell alone. So they know you're mine.”

When he reached his destination, Dean's fingers curled around Sam's thighs. He hiked Sam's leg up over his hip, giving him better access to Sam's cock as he ground down against him. Feeling Sam arch and moan beneath him was doing wonderful things for Dean's self esteem. “You are, aren't you?” Dean whispered, forcing Sam to wrap his leg around Dean's middle. “You're mine?”

As if Sam had a choice in the matter. If he told Dean that he wasn't his, Dean would have lost his mind. And that's the last thing Sam needed right now. Especially when Dean was so close to his dick. And he was so close to cumming. “Dean,” Sam breathed, biting into his bottom lip as he used this new position to his advantage. Locking his leg around Dean, Sam bucked up into his brother's warm body, Sam's finger nails digging into his brother's skin as he felt his orgasm approaching. “Yes, Dean...m'yours. Yes. Please?”

Hearing Sam say it had Dean's body nearly betraying him. Only sheer control stopped Dean from blowing his load all over his brother. He didn't cum until Sam was taken care of. _Take care of Sammy. Watch out for your brother, boy!_ “Cum for me, Sammy,” Dean ordered, his movements above Sam becoming erratic. “C'mon baby, I know you want to. Need to. Cum for me.”

A loud shout escaped Sam when Dean's teeth dug into his shoulder, sending the younger man crashing over the edge. His body shuddered as he rode out the waves of his orgasm, Sam pressing his face into Dean's chest to stifle any louder moans that wanted to break from him. Dean rolled off him moments later, leaving Sam exposed and covered in the evidence of their release.

After a few minutes, Dean rolled onto his side, fingers dancing across the bite mark on Sam's shoulder. “Do you wanna shower with me? I'm gonna go pick up a pizza, or something for dinner, okay? I bet you're hungry.” Dean couldn't help the smile that came to his lips when Sam merely nodded and allowed him to lead the way to the bathroom. Of course, Sam didn't want him to help get him clean, but Dean wasn't too concerned about that. Baby steps – they'd get there eventually.

Once they were out of the shower, Dean headed to the pizza place about ten minutes down the road. As Sam was flipping through television channels trying to find something interesting to watch, he heard the sound of a cell phone vibrating. Slowly, Sam walked to the table, grabbing the device and flipping it open. “Hello?”

“Sam?” came the voice on the other line. “Sam, is that you? Are you okay? Where are you?!” So many questions fired out of his mouth at once, and John immediately felt bad when he heard his son stammering on the other line. “Sammy, listen to me. Are you with Dean?” When Sam told him that he was, John's eyes fluttered closed, feeling a sinking pit in his stomach. “Do you know where? Where is he taking you, Sam?”

Where was Dean taking him? That was the million dollar question. Sam wasn't sure if he was happy or sad that John had been the one to call. It wasn't like his father gave a shit about him. Not since he left for college. But he seemed relieved when Sam told him he was fine. Well, Sam wasn't about to tell him what Dean had been making him do. That wasn't the type of conversation he wanted to have with his dad. And definitely not over the phone. “Home,” Sam answered, biting into his bottom lip. “Dean's taking me home.”


	8. Chapter Eight

Dean sighed as he pulled into the familiar driveway, his body already starting to vibrate. His eyes ticked to his brother as he turned off the ignition, pulling the keys from his pocket. His brother had begged for a normal life – a place to call home – since he was old enough to go to school, and Dean was giving him exactly what he wanted. Sure, there were still some kinks to work out, but for the most part, this was their new home.

And better yet, John would never think to look for them here. Much like Dean, John had no intention of ever returning to Lawrence, Kansas. But Dean knew he had to put that aside the second he decided to go get Sam. His brother wanted a home – a stable, normal life. And Dean was going to give it to him. He and Sam could hunt and still own this place. Bobby did it! Couldn't be that hard. 

For the first time in a while, Dean felt nervous. “Do you like it, Sammy?” Dean asked, keeping his eyes locked on the younger man. Sam wasn't giving anything away – there was nothing on his face to show Dean whether or not Sam liked his gift. And Dean hated that he couldn't read his brother right now. He wanted to know if Sam liked his gift.

It was a house. Just a regular house. Sam was too young to remember the house before it had been set on fire, so Sam had no idea what Dean was looking for from him right now. Did he like it? Sure – it was cute. But Sam couldn't tell Dean it was exactly as it had been before because he just didn't know. He couldn't remember. “Yeah, Dean,” Sam smiled, biting into his bottom lip as he nodded. “It's nice.”

Nice. Dean could work with that. “Why don't we head inside?” Dean suggested, pushing his car door open and waiting at the door for Sam. “I can give you the grand tour,” Dean offered as he pushed the door open. He waited for Sam to walk in before he stepped over the thresh hold, closing the door behind himself. It was almost exactly like he'd remembered it. Sure, there were some new walls and new ceilings, but other than that, it was almost identical. Dean just wished that Sam could remember it the way he did.

When Dean closed the door behind himself, Sam couldn't help but tense up. They were alone in here. And Sam was trapped in this house with his brother. If Dean wanted to, he could stop him from ever going outside again. But Sam didn't think Dean would do that? Would he? No – Sam couldn't think like this. He needed to focus on something else. 

And Dean gave him just that when he carded his fingers through Sam's hair, pulling the younger man into a kiss. Almost out of instinct, Sam opened his lips for Dean, allowing the older man access for his seeking tongue. Before Sam even really knew what he was doing, his hands were on Dean's back, sliding upward to card in the short strands of Dean's hair. 

By the time the kiss broke, both men were panting out their breaths. Dean's eyes were raking over Sam in a not so subtle way, and Sam knew exactly what Dean wanted. But Sam wasn't ready – wasn't sure he'd _ever_ be ready. So, he needed a diversion. “Can-Can I have that house tour now?” Sam asked, biting into his bottom lip as Dean's fingers skated down his throat to grope at his chest. Slowly, Sam's hand moved to grip Dean's wrist, stopping his ministrations. “I wanna see it. Please?”

Although Dean just wanted to take Sam to the bedroom and have his way with him, he refrained. If Sam wanted to see the house, then Dean was going to show him the house. Leaning in, Dean pressed their lips together once more, this time keeping the kiss brief. After all, he didn't need to be sporting a full blown woody while he was showing his brother their new home. “Of course you can, Sammy,” Dean assured his brother with a nod. “Whatever you want, baby.”

The house wasn't too extravagant – John and Mary hadn't had a lot of money – but it was decent. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a finished basement. Sam figured any normal person would love it. Of course, Sam didn't know much about house hunting either. It wasn't like the little apartment he and Jess lived in at Stanford was something people actually searched for on a forever scale.

Just as Sam was going to head downstairs so they could check out the basement, Dean stopped him. “Dean?” Sam asked, frowning at his older brother. “We still have the basement to look at. You said it was finished? Was it like that when we lived here, or...is that something the new owner took it upon themselves to do?”

Suddenly, Sam had a terrible thought skitter through his mind. The new owner? Did someone own this place? Someone who wasn't Dean? After all, Sam couldn't see his brother actually _owning_ a house. Especially not this one. There was no way Dean could afford something like this! Dean was a hunter! He didn't have a steady paying job. “Dean...who lives here?”

“We do now, Sammy,” Dean answered his brother, a smug smile on his lips. He could tell that the wheels in his brother's head were turning, and Dean wished that Sam would just shut his brain off. Sam didn't have to think about every little thing all of the time! Maybe if he didn't, he'd be more inclined to take Dean up on his offers to take care of him. “Don't worry about it, Sam,” Dean ordered, gripping his brother's hip and jerking the larger man against his body. “Just come with me to the bedroom. I want you.”

Fear settled low in Sam's stomach when Dean told him not to worry about the people who lived here. He was worried, dammit. For all he knew, Dean had killed a nice little old couple. Or a family of four. All to have their childhood home for him. “Dean, please, I don't want to,” Sam argued, shaking his head as he tried to wiggle away from his brother's advances. “Dean, what happened to the people who live here? I need to know. Please...just tell me.”

Anger started to build low in Dean's belly when Sam once again argued with him. He'd done nothing but be nice to Sam since he'd gotten him from school, and he was really starting to get pissed off about his brother's attitude. “Why do you care, Sam?!” Dean hissed, slapping his younger brother's hand away from him when he tried to dislodge Dean's hand from his hip. “You don't even know them! They were _nothing_! Just people in our house! People in our way!”

Hearing Dean describe innocent people like they'd done something wrong made Sam sick. “Dean, they didn't know!” Sam argued, getting angrier by the second when his brother refused to stop groping him. “Stop...touching me, dammit!” Without thinking, Sam shoved at Dean's chest. He realized the minute he'd done it that he was in trouble, causing another wave of nausea to wash over him.

When Sam shoved him, Dean caught himself on the wall behind him. Now, he was really pissed. Angrily, Dean shoved himself away from the wall as he moved toward Sam. His hand was in his brother's hair faster than Sam could react, using his grip to jerk his brother's head at an awkward angle. “Stop touching you?” Dean asked, pushing Sam's hand away when he tried to shove at him again. “You're _mine_ , Sam! You said it yourself. So I can fucking touch you _whenever_ and _wherever_ I want to!”

After his outburst, Dean roughly released Sam, taking a few calming breaths. “Sammy,” he whispered apologetically when he saw the scared, pained look on his brother's face. This time when Dean moved toward him, he was slow about it. His touches were gentle as he wrapped Sam in an embrace, fingers carding lovingly through Sam's hair. “M'sorry baby,” he apologized. “It's just...I've been so patient with you. And you're not giving me any credit for it.” His lips trailed from Sam's forehead down to his jaw, pressing soft kisses all the way down. “I just wanna make you feel good, Sammy. Please? Let me make you feel good.”

More than anything, Sam wanted to shove Dean away from him again and just run. He didn't have to stay here! But he quickly scrubbed that thought from his mind when he thought about all of the innocent people who would get hurt in the process. “Dean...please...I just wanna know what happened to the people who live here.”

He would never understand his brother's need to save people. They were strangers to him – _nothing_! And yet, all Sam seemed to care about was their well-being. “They're fine, Sammy,” Dean assured his brother. “They're downstairs. They're in the basement tied to a pole.” Pressing another kiss to Sam's throat, Dean muttered, “I haven't had a chance to take care of them yet. I've been a little busy with you.”

For what seemed like the millionth time since he got into this house, Sam felt like he was going to be sick. Dean had people tied up in the basement, and he was acting like it was the most natural thing in the whole world. “What do you mean take care of them?” Sam asked, his voice shaking. A part of him already knew what Dean meant, but Sam needed to hear his brother say it. He needed confirmation.

“You know what I mean,” Dean assured his little brother, pressing another kiss to Sam's shoulder once Dean yanked the pesky fabric of Sam's shirt out of the way. Again, he felt his brother tense against him. Of course Sam wasn't okay with Dean's methods. It would have annoyed him if he didn't know he could use it to his advantage. “I don't have to,” Dean whispered, moss green eyes ticking up to meet his brother's. “It'll make you happy if I don't, right?”

Sam didn't know what his brother was playing at, but he was fairly certain he didn't want to play along. He knew what his brother wanted from him – any idiot who saw the way Dean behaved with him would be able to guess. And Sam was sure Dean was going to use those people as a bargaining chip, which was just sick. Though he knew Dean wasn't above that. So, swallowing thickly, Sam played along. “Yes, Dean,” he answered with a small nod. “I'd be really happy if you didn't hurt them. Please?”

The sound of Sam begging was something Dean was sure he'd never get tired of. “I won't Sammy,” Dean assured the younger man. “I won't hurt them. Not if you don't want me to.” His hand slid down Sam's chest, fingers curling around the younger man's hip as he pulled Sam closer so he could feel Dean's erection pressing against his thigh. “Just give me a reason not to, Sammy.”

And there it was. Sam knew Dean was going to try to make him do something he didn't want to. But for the older Winchester to use the lives of innocent people? It was almost unbearable. What could he do though? Sam knew what Dean wanted from him. And he had the chance to save lives. Of course he was going to take it. 

Without putting too much thought into it, Sam surged forward, crushing his lips against Dean's. Immediately, his brother's hands were in his hair, using his grip to maneuver Sam's head however he wanted it. And the feeling at this point was so familiar that Sam actually felt himself relaxing into it. Dean knew what he was doing. And as much as Sam hated it, Dean made him feel safe when he felt so vulnerable like this. _That's_ why Sam always gave in to Dean. Why he always just let Dean take the lead.

Dean broke the kiss for a brief minute to rip Sam's shirt off his body before his lips were back on him. “Mine, Sammy,” Dean growled as he started walking Sam backward to the bedroom. “Gonna make you feel so good, baby.” Once they were in the bedroom, Dean kicked the door closed. His movements were rushed as he pulled his own shirt off. “Get your pants off, Sam,” he instructed, moving to do the same with his own.

Once Sam was naked, Dean took a minute to admire his little brother's body. He was so sexy. Even while he'd been away at college, it was obvious that Sam had still taken care of his body. The well muscled planes of flesh told that story all too well. 

Keeping his movements slow, Dean reached for Sam, gripping the younger man's hips before he turned their bodies so that Sam was closer to the bed. He gave the younger man a small shove then, smirking when Sam lost his balance and fell onto the mattress. Dean wasted no time joining Sam, forcing the younger man onto his back and blanketing Sam's body with his own.

Another small whimper broke from Sam's throat when Dean ground their bare cocks together, pulling a smile to Dean's lips once more. “You like that, huh baby?” Dean asked, dipping his head to kiss Sam's neck once again. “You want more?”

Shakily, Sam nodded. “Y-Yeah,” he breathed, biting into his bottom lip as he allowed his brain to just shut off. This wasn't anything that they hadn't done in the past, so Sam could handle this. He knew he could. He had to for those people.

He hissed in a breath when Dean latched onto his nipple, Sam's back arching into the sting on its own accord. Sam's chest was rising and falling with each panted breath as Dean worked his way lower, tongue sliding over the muscled planes of Sam's torso. His tongue dipped into Sam's belly button before Dean nipped at the edge of Sam's navel, smiling up at the younger man. 

When Dean reached Sam's cock, he took him deep into his mouth in one go. His hands pressed against Sam's hips, keeping the younger man from bucking into his mouth. Dean obscenely moaned around Sam's length, smiling once more when Sam groaned in pleasure. Dean loved making Sam squirm. Sam was so cute when he was thrashing his head on the pillow, silently begging for more.

It wasn't nearly long enough before Dean was pulling off Sam's dick, licking his lips as he locked eyes with the younger man once more. Dean gripped the backs of Sam's thighs then, biting into his bottom lip as he pushed Sam's knees into his chest, exposing the younger man's most intimate parts to himself.

Fear gripped Sam tightly when Dean spread his legs wide and settled between them. “Dean,” he breathed, slowly shaking his head. There was no way Dean was planning on fucking him dry – that was just cruel. And he knew his brother would never do anything to hurt him. Dean was more interested in protecting him in his own sick, twisted way.

“Shhh...” Dean calmed, dipping his head and licking a stripe from the top of Sam's ass crack to his balls. Another loud moan was pulled from Sam's throat by the action, making Dean smile wider. Releasing Sam's knees, Dean allowed them to sling over his shoulders as he spread Sam open wider for himself. His tongue slowly circled around Sam's tight pucker, teasing the younger man. Slowly, Dean pressed his tongue inside Sam, using his saliva to ease the way. 

Sam's hands balled into fists against the sheets as he tried to keep his mind neutral. Dean was making him lose his mind, and Sam both loved and hated it at the same time. He didn't want to like this. Just like he hadn't wanted to like it when Dean dry humped him to completion those few times in the motel room. Sam wasn't supposed to be getting turned on by this. But he was. And he hated it.

His head pressed back against the pillow, eyes squeezed tightly closed as Dean's tongue delved back inside him, wetting his skin and driving him mad. Another whimper broke from him when Dean pressed a slick digit in alongside his tongue, opening Sam up for what was inevitably to come.

After a few minutes, Dean added a second finger, nipping the meaty part of Sam's ass cheek as he scissored the digits inside Sam. “So fucking tight baby,” Dean breathed, moaning softly as he dipped his head to nuzzle into the junction where Sam's thigh met his groin. “Can't wait to be inside you, baby.”

Adding a third finger, Dean licked and sucked at Sam's balls, distracting the younger man from any pain that he might be feeling. “Want me inside you, baby?” Dean asked between licks. “Tell me.” He licked the underside of Sam's cock before taking in just the tip, tongue delving into the slit to collect the pre-cum that was gathering there. “God, baby, you taste so good. Beg for me.”

Helpless to do much of anything else, Sam did as he was told. “Oh God, yes,” he breathed biting into his bottom lip as he fought against himself. “Please? Dean, please? I can't...please?” Sam wasn't even sure what he was begging for, but he knew he needed more. Dean was teasing him, and Sam hated it. Tears pricked at the backs of his eyes as he realized that he was actually begging for this. Begging for his _brother_ to fuck him.

Each time Dean pushed into Sam, he was receiving little resistance, so he figured Sam was prepared enough to move forward. Slowly, he pulled his hand away from Sam's body, moving to nip and kiss Sam's neck once more. “It's okay Sammy,” Dean breathed against Sam's skin. “Gonna make you feel so good baby.” His hand gripped Sam's hip as he spit into his free hand. Dean bit into his bottom lip as he stroked his rock hard member a few times, slicking it up so that he wasn't pushing in dry. 

“God, Sam,” Dean breathed, fingers flexing against the younger man's skin where he held his hips. It was slow going as he pushed into his brother's body, making sure that he didn't go too fast. It felt like forever had passed before he was finally bottoming out against his brother. “You're so fucking perfect.” His right hand moved to card through Sam's hair, pushing the shaggy strands out of his face. “Taking everything I have in me not to move right now.”

Slowly, Sam rocked his hips back experimentally, moaning softly when the action caused Dean's cock to brush against his prostate. When he realized that it didn't hurt as much as he thought it was going to – it actually felt pretty damn good – Sam took a deep breath, nodding more to himself than Dean. He could do this. He _had_ to do this.

The pace was slow at first, almost gentle. Dean wasn't going to push. He was just going to let Sam go at his own pace – for now. “Ungh...yeah, baby, keep going,” he breathed, fingers digging into Sam's hips with the effort it was taking for him not to make Sam move faster underneath him. He could handle Sam just rocking gently against him. Sam needed to be more relaxed and open for Dean to be able to move the way he wanted, so he was going to let Sam have the show for now.

After a few more thrusts, Dean was done letting Sam lead. It was his turn. He was sure Sam was open enough – both physically and mentally – now that he could pound into his brother without abandon. Because that's what he really wanted to do. “My turn,” he breathed, dipping his head and crushing his lips against Sam's. Roughly, Dean's tongue sought access to Sam's mouth, shoving past his lips and teeth to tangle with Sam's own. 

Sam groaned into Dean's mouth as Dean picked up their pace. The headboard slammed against the wall behind them as Dean thrust into Sam deeper and deeper with each thrust. And Dean was good at this – _damn_ good. The way he was hitting Sam's prostate with each thrust. He was making Sam lose his mind like no one ever had. “Oh my God, D'n,” he breathed, not even bothering to stifle the moans that escaped him.

When Sam moaned his name with such passion – such _ecstasy_ – Dean growled with approval. “Gonna cum for me, baby?” he asked, releasing the hold he had on Sam's hip and wrapping his hand around the younger man's cock. “C'mon, baby,” he coaxed, smirking down at the younger Winchester when Sam moaned obscenely, thrusting his hips into Dean's hand in time with his ass back against Dean's hips. “Cum for me, Sammy. Only me.”

Almost as if Sam was waiting for permission, his body responded to Dean's order. His body _always_ responded to Dean's orders. His back arched off the bed as his balls drew up tight against his body. As the first spurt of his orgasm shot from his cock, Dean's name fell from Sam's lips, the younger man's fingers digging into Dean's biceps where he was holding him. 

It wasn't long after Sam came that Dean was following suit. The way Sam's muscles clenched down on his sensitive flesh had Dean falling over the edge right after his brother. “Mmmm...” he breathed as he rolled off Sam, rubbing his hand on Sam's abdomen to get the younger man's seed off his fingers. “Well, I thoroughly enjoyed that.”

Heat rose to Sam's cheeks, burning them a bright red. He'd enjoyed it, too. And he hated that he did. “Dean...” Sam whispered when his brother rolled onto him once more, settling between Sam's legs. Dean pressed his head under Sam's chin, forcing his head up as he attacked the skin on Sam's neck. “Dean, please? Stop it? Please?” His eyes ticked to the bathroom, giving the younger man an idea. “I-I wanna shower. Can I shower?”

Rolling his eyes, Dean pushed himself off Sam. “Yeah, Sammy, you can shower,” he assured the younger man. “This is your house. You can do whatever you want to, baby.” He could see the look Sam was giving him, and he knew exactly what his brother was thinking. “Don't worry Sammy,” he smirked. “They'll be safe for twenty minutes while you wash up. Promise.”

Although Sam wasn't quite sure he trusted Dean, he wanted to get the stink of their combined orgasms off of him. “Okay,” he breathed, putting a lot of faith in Dean. He had to believe that Dean would keep his word. After all, Dean hadn't lied to him since they'd left Stanford. Why would he start now?


	9. Chapter Nine

Dean was taking Sam home. John had no clue what that even meant. As much as it pained him, his sons had never had a home. At least not one that Dean was willing to go back to. He'd been wracking his brain since Sam had told him where they were headed, trying to figure out where he would find his sons. Bobby thought maybe Dean was taking him back to Stanford, but John was sure that wasn't true. There was no way Dean was giving up Sam so easily. Not after all of the trouble he'd gone through to get to him.

Now, after hours of trying to track down Sam Winchester as well as any known aliases for Dean, they were still chasing their tails. There was just one thing that kept coming to John's mind – Lawrence. But there was just something in him telling him that Dean would never go back there. Dean had told him before that he'd never go back there. Which is exactly why John was thinking Dean was there.

Sighing, John pushed himself away from the computer he'd been using to track yet another dead end lead. “What about Lawrence?” John finally suggested, eyes locked on Bobby. The older hunter's eyebrows immediately shot up, as if he was just realizing that it was the one thing he hadn't thought about. “Dean told me once he would never go back there. But that's the only _home_ the boys have ever really had. Sam wasn't old enough to remember it, but Dean was.”

Never in a million years would Bobby have thought Dean would go back to Lawrence. Even when they were younger, the kid had always talked about how much he hated that place. But John had a good point. If Dean said he'd never go back there, that was the perfect hiding spot. “You think he has Sam at yer old place?” Bobby asked, grabbing his keys as John nodded. “Well then what're ya waitin' for? Let's go!”

He didn't wait for John before he was out the door and in his car. Bobby knew the other hunter would follow him. Say what you want about John Winchester, but he was a good father. Those boys meant the world to him, and Bobby knew there was nothing he wouldn't do for the two of them. As soon as John was in his truck, Bobby pulled out of the lot after John, praying to whoever was listening that they were finally on the right track.

**~~**

A small whimper broke from Sam as he bit into his bottom lip hard enough to leave an imprint. His eyes squeezed closed tightly, fighting back the tears that wanted to leak down his cheeks. Shivers ran down his body as Dean's hands moved over his skin, digging into his muscles as Dean thrust deep inside him. 

Pulling back, Dean gripped Sam's chin, holding the younger man in place as he ravaged Sam's mouth with his own. “Don't hold back, baby,” Dean mumbled, crushing his lips against Sam's once more. “I wanna hear you scream for me, Sammy.” Dipping his head, Dean pressed kisses to Sam's cheek, over his jaw and down his neck before sucking a bruise into Sam's collarbone. “Doesn't it feel good, baby?”

It did feel good. That was the problem. Dean knew what he was doing. And he knew exactly what to do to Sam to make him feel like his body was on fire. And Sam hated it. “Y-Yes,” Sam muttered in response. Another moan escaped him when his brother angled his hips before thrusting back into him, causing his vision to explode with pleasure. “Dean...” he gasped, fingers moving to grip at his brother's shoulders.

“That's it, Sammy,” Dean chuckled, one hand moving to card through Sam's hair lovingly. Slowly, Dean allowed his hand to slide down his brother's body, fingertips just ghosting over Sam's skin. When he reached his destination, Dean smiled down at his brother before his hand wrapped around Sam's hard length. “So hard for me, baby,” Dean moaned softly. “Wanna cum, Sammy?”

Another strangled moan escaped Sam when Dean gripped his erection, his hips bucking into Dean's hand on their own accord. “Y-Yes,” Sam stuttered, head nodding erratically. “Dean, please? I-I need...please, Dean?” 

Leaning in once more so that his lips brushed against the shell of Sam's ear, Dean shushed his brother gently. “I know what you need, Sammy,” Dean assured the younger man. “Always know what you need. Do you trust me, baby?” His smile grew wider when Sam nodded once more, letting Dean know he did. Again, Dean angled his hips, smirking as he watched the look of pleasure come over his brother's face. “Cum for me, Sammy,” he whispered, his hand on Sam's cock speeding up its ministrations.

As soon as Dean ordered him to cum, it was like Sam was powerless to stop it. His whole body tensed up as he felt his balls draw tight against his body. His fingers dug into Dean's shoulders as hot spurts of cum shot from his cock, coating his brother's hand and his own stomach. He felt Dean tense above him moments before his brother's cum flooded his body, Sam's fingers tightening on Dean's arms instinctively. 

Dean barely remembered to roll off his brother before he collapsed onto the bed beside him, breaths panting out of him. Smiling widely, Dean rolled onto his side, rubbing Sam's release into the younger man's skin. “You're amazing,” Dean complimented, pressing his lips against Sam's shoulder. “I love how responsive you are, Sammy. How you cum when I tell you to. So perfect, baby.”

Heat stained Sam's cheeks a bright red when Dean spoke. He hated that his body listened to every word Dean said. It had always been that way – Dean practically raised him. Of course Sam listened to him. But he wished he wouldn't in this scenario. He wished that Dean couldn't make him feel the way he did. It made Sam feel wrong – sick. He was a freak. If there had been any doubt in his mind about it before, it was gone now. 

He barely realized that Dean had been talking to him because he was in his own head. “Hmm?” he hummed when he heard Dean say his name, this time paying attention to what the older man was saying. A shower? Yeah, that sounded good. He needed one. “Yeah, sounds good,” Sam answered with a nod, moving to get out of the bed. Of course, Dean moved to do the same, which meant he was getting into the shower with Sam. Not that Sam was surprised – Dean rarely let him shower on his own anymore.

In the shower, Dean insisted on washing Sam himself. Sam didn't even argue this time. He knew it wouldn't get him anywhere. Instead, he stood still, back pressed against the wall and eyes squeezed tightly closed as his brother ran his hands all over Sam's body. When Sam felt his brother's hand in his hair, he blinked his eyes open, hazel orbs locked on jade green. He still didn't protest when Dean leaned in and nipped at his neck and shoulder – he knew Dean liked to leave marks on him so people knew he was his.

Once the water started to get cold, they climbed out of the shower. Sam was about to get dressed, but Dean stopped him. “Come downstairs with me,” Dean suggested, fingers massaging Sam's slim hips. “Wanna make some breakfast. Maybe we can watch a movie today, or something. I'll let you pick it, Sammy.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Sam assured his brother with a small nod. He was pretty hungry. And he knew that if he suggested they go somewhere public, Dean would more than likely lose his mind. After all, they were only here because Dean didn't want Sam out in public, he was sure. Here, Dean could control Sam, as well as anyone who wanted to come into this place. “C-Can I get dressed first?” 

A small smirk came to Dean's lips as his eyes raked over Sam's exposed body. “I'd rather you didn't,” he answered, moving to grab a pair of sweatpants from his duffel bag. They were going to have to unpack their stuff sometime today, too. Maybe after the movie. It wasn't like they were going to be leaving here anytime soon, after all. 

Although Sam wanted to pull on a pair of sweats and an oversized hoodie, he knew that wouldn't sit well with Dean. It wasn't fair that Dean was allowed to wear clothes and he wasn't, but he wasn't about to complain. Dean was a lot easier to deal with when he was in a good mood. So, Sam kept his mouth shut as he followed his brother down the stairs and into the kitchen. “Eggs okay?” Sam finally asked, moving to grab a skillet. He couldn't help but smile when Dean told him eggs were fine – it was one of the only meals he could make without burning it.

**~~**

John's breath caught in his throat as he pulled into the driveway of his old home. He hadn't been back since Mary's death. It was too hard for him. All of the memories this place brought back was enough to knock him right on his ass and turn him into that crying, broken man he had been twenty two years ago. But he pushed those thoughts to the side. His son was here, and he was going to stop at nothing to get the younger man back.

The Impala sitting in the driveway was doing nothing to hold off those old memories of when they had been a family. When they'd been together and happy. When they hadn't had problems like Dean potentially killing people and then running off with his brother who he'd all but kidnapped from college. When Mary had been alive and John wasn't scrambling every second to try to raise his boys right. When things had been different – better. 

Quickly, he pushed those thoughts deep down where they couldn't distract him from his mission. Sam was the only thing he could think about right now. Anything else was considered a liability and it was detrimental to the cause. Throwing the truck into park, John climbed out of the vehicle, shooting a glance toward Bobby as the older hunter did the same with his own car. They needed a plan. Dean was smart. And judging by how much trouble he'd gone through to get Sam, he wasn't going to let him go without a fight. The last thing John wanted to do was mess up his chance at getting his son out of this situation safely.

Meeting the older hunter at the main door, John checked the rounds in his pistol. He didn't want to have to shoot Dean, but if push came to shove, he would choose Sam over his eldest son. He watched as Bobby sadly did the same. It was easy to see how hard this was for the other hunter. After all, Sam and Dean were like sons to Bobby as well. But John knew that Bobby was a rational man – he knew the facts just as well as John did. 

Once they were both ready, John tried the door. His heart hammered in his chest when he realized that the door hadn't been locked. For a split second, it dawned on him that Sam could have left at any time. Whenever he pleased, Sam could have walked out that open door. But he hadn't. Fear flooded through John's body and gripped him tightly. He managed to keep his composure for Bobby's sake, but he was shaking on the inside.

Being as quiet as possible, John and Bobby slipped through the open door, guns at the ready. John tried his best to stay focused, but being back in this house was really messing with his head. He could see that Bobby was worried about him, but he merely nodded at the older hunter to let him know he was fine. This was about Sam. They needed to find him. They needed to save him. Everything else could wait for when their task was finished.

A choked off scream from the kitchen drew both of their attentions to the room at the end of the house. Quickly, John and Bobby moved toward the room, guns trained on the figures in the kitchen when they reached their destination. Neither man could have been prepared for what they'd walked into. 

The sight of Sam leaning against the counter, fingers gripping it so tightly his knuckles were turning white, while Dean knelt on the ground behind him with his face pressed into his ass was something John could have gone his entire life without seeing. Involuntarily, John gasped, losing his balance and falling back against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway. 

As soon as John gasped, their cover was blown. Bobby kept his gun trained on the younger men as he watched John regain his composure. He felt heat rise to his cheeks as Sam and Dean both stood to their full height, attention on himself and John. Bobby could only imagine his face was about as red as Sam's as he tried to keep his focus on anything other than the state of undress the younger man was in right now.

“Boys,” John greeted finally, managing to keep his voice gruff although he had a whirlwind of emotions going on inside his head. “We need to have a talk.” His eyes landed on Sam, and he knew something was wrong. Sam was scared – John could tell. “Sammy, why don't you go get some clothes on. We can all sit down and have a conversation.”

Although Sam wanted to go get clothes on, everything in his body was telling him not to move a muscle. He could feel the anger coming off of Dean in waves, and he knew moving would just make him more angry. Shame made his face burn bright red because he knew there was no way his father – _and Bobby_ – didn't see what Dean was doing to him just a few minutes ago.

Before he could answer, however, Dean spoke up. “How about he doesn't?” Dean suggested. Sam could see that his brother wasn't feeling shame, or remorse, or _anything_ really about having been caught with his tongue up Sam's ass by their fucking father! Must be nice. “How about the two of you just walk right out that front door where you came in, and Sammy an' me will get back to it?”

Shock was clear on John Winchester's face for a brief moment before he was able to compose himself once more. Dean had never spoken to him like that before. And he wasn't a fan of his son's new attitude. “You watch your tone with me, boy!” John argued, hoping that using the same militant tone he'd used with his son while he was growing up would spark something inside of Dean. “I said we need to talk. Your behavior lately has been out of line, son!”

A humorless laugh escaped Dean at John's words. “My behavior?” Dean asked, shaking his head. “What the hell would you know about my behavior lately?! You haven't seen me since you let Sammy leave for college!” Taking a step closer to John, Dean accused, “ _You're_ the reason he left! You told him that if he walked out that door never to come back! You made him leave _me_!” Tossing his arms out to his sides, Dean explained, “I'm just doin' what I have to do to make it right. And we don't need you, _Dad_.”

Sam jumped slightly when he felt Dean's arm warp around his waist, the older man pulling him tightly against his body. He tried his best to keep his body covered, though he wasn't sure why. It wasn't like they hadn't already seen every inch of him. He wanted to talk to John – wanted to hear what his father had to say – but he knew Dean wasn't going to go for that. “Dean,” he breathed, bringing his brother's attention to him and away from their new guests.

As soon as Dean's attention was off of him, Bobby fired off a shot. The tranquilizer hit its mark, penetrating Dean's shoulder right where Bobby wanted it. Before long, Dean fell to his knees, angry green eyes glaring at Bobby. Only when he was sure Dean was out did Bobby move toward the younger men. “Go get yer clothes on, boy,” Bobby ordered Sam as he went to work on tying Dean up while he was still unconscious. 

He didn't need to be told twice. Quickly, Sam ran up the stairs. He didn't waste any time as he grabbed his duffel bag and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. Once he was dressed, Sam ran down the stairs once more, nearly plowing over John when he reached the bottom. He swallowed thickly as he stood in front of John, waiting for the older man to break the silence.

“Why didn't you leave, Sam?” John asked, the question having been nagging at him since he opened that door. “He didn't have you tied up. You weren't locked in here. You could have left at any time. Why'd you stay with him? Why didn't you run?”

A single tear slid down Sam's cheek at John's question, the younger man shaking his head. “I wanted to,” he answered. “But Dean...he kept threatening to hurt people if I left.” He watched as Bobby loaded Dean into his car and drove off, leaving Sam and John alone. “Dad, we have to get to the basement. The people who live here...they're down there. Dean had them locked up.”

Pushing past his father, Sam moved to the basement. The door was locked, of course, so Sam waited as John picked the lock. As soon as the door was unlocked, Sam threw it open and jogged down the stairs. His breath caught in his throat when he saw three corpses laying on the ground. They were dead – they'd probably been dead the whole time. 

Slowly, Sam sank to his knees, letting the tears he'd been holding back since Dean came to Stanford for him flow freely. He wasn't sure how long he cried. John stayed with him the whole time, keeping a comforting hand on his back while he let himself be overrun by emotions. Finally, John managed to get Sam off the floor and lead him to the truck. Sam was asleep before they were out of Lawrence.

**~~**

The first thing he felt when he woke up was pain. It radiated from his shoulder, all the way down his arm and exploding through his hand. Slowly, Dean blinked his eyes open, turning his attention to the source of the pain. There was a large, purpling bruise on his shoulder that expanded to his chest. Anger bubbled inside him as he remembered the events leading up to his unconsciousness. “Sammy!” he called out, trying to sit up only to realize that he was strapped down to the bed. “Sam!”

His attention snapped to the door when it creaked open, revealing a tall man in a white lab coat. “Where am I?” Dean demanded, struggling against his bindings. “Where's my brother?!” He watched as a nurse walked in after the man, closing the door behind herself. “Who the hell are you?”

“Dean, my name is Dr. James Ellicott,” the man in the lab coat introduced. “Your father had you sent here so I could help you get better. You're just sick, Dean. We can fix this.” Smiling down at Dean, the doctor suggested, “Why don't we talk for a while? Get to know each other a little bit?”

Chuckling humorlessly, Dean shook his head. “I have a better idea,” he suggested. “How about you let me go, and I won't kill every single person in this joint?” He wasn't staying here. One way or another, he was leaving. He needed to get back to Sam.

Now, it was the doctor's turn to laugh. “Dean, don't make me drug you again,” Dr. Ellicott threatened. “Your behavior over the last few months has been...questionable, at best. Your father seems to think we can make you better. You don't want to prove your daddy wrong, do you, Dean? You want to make him proud, right?”

Honestly, Dean could care less what John wanted. As far as he was concerned, John was the reason Sam had left him in the first place. And then when he'd finally gotten his brother back, John had been the one to take him away... _again_. In Dean's eyes, John Winchester was enemy number one. Sighing, Dean settled into the mattress, closing his eyes. “Fine,” he mumbled. “Have it your way.”


	10. Chapter Ten

** One Month After Being Rescued **

_”Ungh...Dean,” Sam moaned, pressing his head against the mattress as he fought to keep his hips from bucking into his brother's hot mouth. “Please?” His head thrashed on the pillow as he moaned in pleasure once more because of what Dean was doing to him. Quickly, his hand shot down between his legs, fingers tangling in his brother's short cropped hair. “Dean...c'mere, please?”_

_Slowly, Dean crawled back up Sam's body, leaving a trail of kisses on his way. “What's the matter, Sammy?” Dean whispered in his brother's ear, nipping at the lobe before he nuzzled into Sam's neck. “Doesn't it feel good, baby?”_

_Another moan escaped Sam when Dean's teeth sank into his shoulder, the younger man's back arching, pressing his body closer to Dean's. “Y-Yes,” Sam breathed, nodding erratically. “Dean...please?” He whimpered softly when Dean asked what he wanted. Honestly, Sam had no idea what he wanted. He just knew that he wanted Dean. Anything else felt like it didn't matter – he just needed his brother. “Need you. Dean, please?”_

_Jerking his hips, Dean ground his hard cock against Sam's own, smirking when it elicited another loud moan from his brother. “I know what you need, baby,” he assured the younger man. Gripping Sam's hip, Dean forced him onto his stomach, pulling his hips up so that his ass was in the air. His open palm connected against Sam's ass cheek before he dipped his head, pressing a kiss to the area he'd just slapped._

_Dean's hand moved from Sam's hip, fisting in the younger man's hair as he held him down against the bed. “Know what you need, baby,” he assured the younger man once more. “Let your big brother take care of you, Sammy. Always take care of you.”_

_When Dean's hot, wet tongue licked a stripe over his hole, Sam gasped in a mixture of shock and pleasure. “Dean...” he breathed, eyes squeezed tightly closed as he bit into the pillow beneath him. His hips jerked back on their own accord, shoving his ass against Dean's face harder. Another moan escaped him when Dean's tongue pressed inside him, lapping at him. “Fuck...Dean,” he whimpered, his whole body shaking._

_He couldn't think. The only thing he knew was that Dean was above him, and he was making him feel so damn good. Slowly, his eyes blinked open, another gasp escaping him when Dean bit into the tender muscle of his ass cheek. However, when Sam saw John Winchester standing on the other side of the room, he frowned deeply. “Dean,” he breathed, reaching back to push at his brother's face. “Dean, stop.”_

_But he didn't stop. Instead, Dean shoved Sam's hand away from him, fingers gripping Sam's ass cheeks as he spread him wider. Again, Sam groaned loudly, unable to control himself as his brother's tongue delved deeper inside him. “Dean...” he breathed once more, eyes locking on his father as shame filled him._

_“Why didn't you leave, Sam?” John asked, his tone accusatory as he watched his sons. “He didn't have you tied up. You weren't locked in here. You could have left at any time. Why'd you stay with him? Why didn't you run?” His face changed then. Where he had been looking at Sam sadly, now he was staring at him like he was some sort of monster. “Because you liked it, didn't you Sam?” John accused. “You loved it!” Chuckling humorlessly, John added, “Look at you now. Begging _your brother_ to fuck you.” Shaking his head, John spat, “You're sick! You're nothing but a freak, Sam!”_

_Before Sam had a chance to answer, Dean forced him onto his back once more. He thrust his cock deep into Sam, dragging another moan from the younger man. Without thinking, Sam's hands moved to grip his brother's biceps, holding on for dear life. As his fingers flexed against Dean's skin, Sam realized that there was a large bruise forming on Dean's shoulder, splintering out to mar his pectoral. “Dean?” Sam whispered, brows knit in confusion._

_There was no answer from Dean. Instead, he dipped his head, biting into Sam's shoulder once more. Again Sam's moaned, head pressed against the pillow as he pushed his body closer to Dean's, meeting his brother's every thrust. However, when Sam finally opened his eyes, Bobby was behind Dean holding a gun._

_As Sam tried to push Dean off of him, he heard Bobby fire off a shot. “No!” he screamed, trying to get his brother out of harm's way. But the bullet hit it's mark, landing right in the center of the bruise on Dean's shoulder._

_A pained expression crossed Dean's face as he rolled off the bed, clutching at his arm. “Sammy,” Dean breathed, pulling his hand away from the wound to reveal a blood stained palm. “Sam!” Dean called out once more before he disappeared._

Sam jerked awake with a start, his breaths panting out of him. He was covered in sweat, and he could feel his heart pounding against his ribs. When hands landed on his arms, Sam jerked away, nearly falling off the bed in his attempt to shake them. “Hey, Sam, it's okay,” Jessica cooed, her hands held palms up as if she was surrendering. “It's just me. I'm here.”

When he heard Jessica talk, Sam sighed, finally relaxing. He'd been having nightmares since he'd gotten back, but they'd never been like that. Usually, it was Dean killing people and being a bad person. But tonight, it had been different. Sam had _wanted_ Dean tonight. It was a new experience. And it scared him more than those nightmares he'd had every other night. “M'fine,” he assured Jessica when he saw that she was staring at him in concern. “It was just a nightmare. I'm okay. Just...go back to sleep.”

Sighing, Sam pushed himself out of the bed. Slowly, he padded to the kitchen. He needed a drink. Once he was in the kitchen, Sam grabbed a glass, filling it full with water. His head hung between his arms as he leaned against the sink, trying to get the images of his dream out of his head. It was so vivid – practically like he could feel Dean right there with him. 

After he downed his first glass of water, Sam got himself another. This time, he drank it slowly, trying to get his breathing back under control. Something wasn't right – Sam could feel it. Finishing his second glass of water, Sam moved back to the bedroom. He tried to be as quiet as possible as he grabbed a pair of jeans and pulled them on.

When he sat on the bed to pull on his sneakers, Jessica rolled onto her side to face him once more. A small frown came to her lips when she realized that Sam was dressed in a pair of jeans and hoodie, and he was pulling on his shoes. “Where are you going?” she asked, pushing up onto one elbow so she could see Sam's face better in the dark room.

“I just need some air,” Sam explained, smiling softly at his girlfriend. “I'll be fine. I promise. I'm just gonna run down the coffee shop.” He hadn't been there since the night Dean came for him. But for some reason, Sam had an overwhelming feeling to get down there. Maybe his body was just craving caffeine. “I'll be home later. Just get some sleep. I'm fine. I promise.”

With that, Sam headed out the door, making sure to lock it behind him. After all, you could never be too careful these days. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders, keeping his eyes locked on the ground as he walked the short distance to the coffee shop. As soon as he walked through the door, he smiled at Rebecca. “Hi,” he greeted, unable to miss the flash of pity that crossed on her face.

That seemed to be happening a lot these days. People felt sorry for him. Word had traveled around campus that he'd been attacked, and since it had, people looked at him differently. Sam hated it. His smile didn't reach his eyes as he thanked Rebecca and paid for his order. Instead of sitting in the coffee shop like he normally would, Sam headed out the door. He needed to be alone for a little while. The night air was warm enough that he could just take a walk around the block comfortably.

**~~**

** Two Months After Being Rescued **

She was upset – Sam could hear it in her voice. And he didn't blame her. Hell, Sam was upset that he had to do this, but he knew he had no other option. He was different – he wasn't the man she fell in love with. And he would be damned if he trapped her in a relationship that was doomed to fail. And right now, Sam was sure that's where this was heading.

Things had been different since he'd been back. They'd been different for a long while, and he had tried to ignore it because he loved her. But Sam knew that he was just being selfish. And Jessica didn't deserve that. Jessica was selfless. She deserved the best. Right now, that wasn't Sam.

When her hand landed on his duffel, Sam frowned, keeping his eyes locked on the duffel bag. He couldn't look at her. She'd been yelling – _begging_ – for him not to leave, and Sam knew that if he looked into those eyes, he was going to hurt more. Then again, maybe he deserved that.

“Look at me, Sam!” Jessica pleaded, tears wetting her eyes. “You don't have to do this. Sam, we can get through this.” Shaking her head, Jessica pressed her hands against Sam's biceps. She quickly pulled her hands away from him when Sam jumped as if he'd been burned. “Sam, it's only been two months. I understand that you need time. And I'll give it to you. Sam, you don't have to move out. We can get through this together. I can help you. Please, let me help you?”

Slowly, Sam shook his head. “You can't help me,” Sam argued. “Jess, I don't think anyone can help me right now. I just...need time to think. And I don't want to hold you back.” Biting into his bottom lip, Sam moved to his duffel once more, zipping it after tossing the last of his clothing into it. “Look, I already got a place a few blocks down. You have my number if you need me. I just...I have to do this. I'm sorry.”

With that, Sam headed out of the apartment, unwilling to look back at the broken face of his now ex-girlfriend. This is what he needed to do. This was what was best for both of them right now. And Sam had thought about this a lot in the last few weeks. Jessica would understand eventually. And hopefully, she'd be able to forgive him at some point in her life.

**~~**

**Three Months After Being Rescued**

Sam groaned as he rolled onto his side, blindly reaching for the phone that was going off. “H'lo,” he mumbled when he finally answered it, sleep still heavy in his voice. “Bobby?” Sam asked, glancing at the clock on his nightstand. “Yeah, m'fine. What's going on? 's 3 in the morning.”

There was a long pause as Bobby tried to think of the best way to break the news to Sam. He'd wanted to do this in person, but there just wasn't enough time. “Dean escaped from the hospital last night,” Bobby blurted out finally, figuring it was best to rip the band aid off quickly. “Dr. Ellicott and a few of his nurses didn't make it.”

The spark of hope that ran through Sam's body at hearing that Dean was free scared him. “He killed them?” Sam asked, feeling even worse about that hope. His brother was a killer. Well, when it came to Sam, Dean apparently seemed to be a killer. But they'd been around people together and Dean hadn't actually killed anyone. So it wasn't like he did it just for fun. At least Sam didn't think so. Apparently it was just when Dean felt like he was backed into a corner.

“Sam, I just got off the phone with yer dad,” Bobby continued. “He wanted me to check on you. Right now, he's dealing with some business a few states over from you. He plans on coming to get you after he wraps it up.”

A small frown came to Sam's lips at Bobby's news. “I don't want him to come get me,” Sam argued. “Bobby, I am still trying to get back to normal after everything that happened to me. I can't just have Dad coming here and pulling me out of school again!” Anger bubbled up inside Sam at the thought of being pulled back into the life of hunting. “I know what he's trying to do. I'm not coming back to hunting. He can't just pull me back into the life. It's not what I want!”

He heard Bobby try to argue – stick up for John more than likely – but Sam wasn't having any part of it. “Tell him not to come here,” Sam warned. “Or I won't be here when he does. I'm sticking this out. I'm going to be a lawyer. And I can't do that if Dad keeps yanking me out of school. Tell him I'm fine. I'm not going.”

Although he could hear the disappointment in Bobby's voice, Sam was grateful the other hunter agreed to do as Sam had asked. Of course, Sam knew Dean wasn't going to leave him alone. Hell, Sam didn't _want_ Dean to leave him alone. The truth of the matter was, Sam missed Dean. And yeah, he'd basically ruined all of Sam's plans for his future, but he couldn't be mad at him for that. Because he'd opened his eyes.

Sure, most people would think he was crazy. But Sam didn't care. He did love Dean. And he'd missed everything between them since his brother had been taken to the hospital. Of course, Sam was going to have to draw the line at killing people. Innocent people were not to be harmed – Dean would need to know that. They had a lot to talk about, but Sam was eager to see his brother again. All he had to do was sit back and wait for Dean to find him. Because there was no doubt in his mind that his brother was coming for him.

**~~**

** Three Days Later **

Someone was watching him. Sam could feel it as he walked out of his College Writing class. Trying his best not to let on that he knew, Sam scanned the area. Unfortunately, he didn't see anything. Maybe he was just losing his mind. It had been a while since he'd gotten a good night's sleep. Maybe he was finally starting to crack.

Or maybe he was just wishful thinking. It had been three days since Bobby called him to let him know that Dean had escaped, and he hadn't seen Dean at all. Surely, his brother was coming for him. There was no way Dean had just given up on him. Of course, Sam hadn't been the best brother when they were together. So maybe Dean had moved on. Maybe Dean wanted nothing to do with him now. 

The thought that he'd blown his chance with Dean had Sam trying to curl in on himself as he walked the few blocks back to his apartment. Once he was inside, Sam tossed his bag onto the chair, moving to the bedroom to check his messages. Usually he left his phone in his room when he was at class so he wasn't distracted. Of course, there were no messages on the phone, which had Sam's heart sinking a bit further into his stomach.

For about two hours after getting home, Sam worked on a few assignments in an attempt to take his mind off the fact that it was possible Dean wasn't coming. Finally, when his head and his eyes hurt too much to focus on his school work, Sam headed into the bathroom to grab a quick shower. 

Once he was out of the shower, Sam quickly dressed in an oversized hoodie and a pair of sweatpants before he padded into the kitchen. As he was pouring himself a glass of water, Sam got the feeling that there were eyes on him. Quickly, he sat down his glass, turning on his heels to see if someone was in the room with him. 

His breath hitched in his throat when he saw his brother. Dean looked like he was pissed. Sam hated it. “Dean,” he breathed, champagne hazel eyes locked on the man in front of him. Honestly, Sam wasn't sure if what he was seeing was real. It wouldn't be the first time his mind played tricks on him – made him see things that weren't there. “I missed you.”

As soon as Sam told him that he missed him, Dean's body relaxed. When he'd gotten into the house, he wasn't sure how the younger man would react to him being here, so he was prepared for anything. “You did?” Dean asked, taking a chance and moving to close the gap between them. “Good,” he muttered when Sam nodded. “I missed you, too. Spent every day trying to get out of there and get back to you.”

Without thinking, Sam closed the short distance between himself and his brother, arms wrapping around the older man. His eyes squeezed closed as he breathed a sigh of relief when his body hit a corporeal form. Dean was here – he was really here. “I was worried you weren't going to come for me,” Sam whispered, fingers digging into his brother's back as he gripped fistfuls of Dean's leather jacket in his hands.

Dean's arms immediately circled around Sam when he hugged him, returning the gesture. His fingers carded through Sam's hair as the younger man clung tightly to him, Dean shushing his little brother when he admitted his fears. “I'd never leave you, Sammy,” Dean assured the younger Winchester. “Just took me a minute to get back to you. Never gonna let anyone else take you away from me. Promise.”

Less than an hour later, Sam and Dean were in the Impala speeding off to any other state they could think of in an attempt to put distance between them and anyone looking to keep Sam away from Dean. They knew John would be looking for Sam, and they weren't about to be here when the older Winchester came looking. 

A wide smile came to Sam's lips when Dean's hand landed on his knee, drawing his attention from the window. He never imagined that he would be leaving school again with Dean, but here he was. His smile only widened when Dean tugged him further along the bench seat so that he was sitting pressed up against Dean's side. He could get used to this.


End file.
